Some Total Highschool Drama
by loveyourbiggestfan
Summary: It's their senior year, and now they've got other things to deal with. Things change and people move on, but you don't always have to let them. Romance, drama, teenage angst, and a few surprises along the way. Gets alot better later on.
1. First Day

So I've finally gotten to posting my new multi-chaptered fic up, and I'm happy with the way it turned out. It'll be written in the P.O.V.s (point of views) of each of the 22 contestants from the TDI show, so bare with me please-only a few of theirs will be posted per part. I may take long to update, but expect a chapter once a week. Anyways-enjoy! x3

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**Prologue: Trent (Saturday, 11am)**

It was Saturday-as in THE Saturday 3 days before school would start-when Mom insisted I'd clean out our jungle-mess of an attic. Despite my lame excuse attempts of "But I have band practice in a couple of hours", in the end, I was forced to obey.

Though really, I didn't mind much. Honestly, I was used to being pushed around with total back-breaking chores and tasks. 'Just like those days back on the island…' And then suddenly, I remembered what exactly I'd find in the attic that meant so much to me.

Once I reached the attic, I was automatically drawn to the year-old object that stacked on top of one of the bigger boxes. I grinned, walked over to it, and picked it up. My TDI Scrapbook.

After brushing of most of the grey dust that wrapped loosely around the scrapbook, I flipped to the very first page. A neatly folded paper fell out and dropped to the attic floor. I knew immediately what it was.

It was the letter I had gotten from Chris-informing me about the show I was chosen for, the beautiful 5-Star hotel that'd await me there; the delicious cuisine; and what a nice, relaxed stay I'd have there.

Boy, was that message wrong. We were forced to stay and sleep in these old, broken-down cabins, eat the complete opposite of "food", and put up with people we couldn't stand.

I admit though, that it was fun. Made a couple of friends; did a few things I never thought I'd get to do or actually do. It was definitely the ultimate summer experience, one I could never forget.

I continued to skim through the pages, laughing or blushing madly at some of them. Until at last I had gotten to the very last, but not very least, page. My favorite-on the top was a picture of everyone of us on the first day. The second was each of the 24 contestants at the finale, each with bright smiles on our faces.

I gave a sigh.

It's been over a year since TDI. Things have changed since then. Most of us have lost contact with eachother, and, to make matters worse, we're separated back to our homes across the many regions of Canada.

Would I ever see them again?

Who knew-only fate.

I sighed a second time, and took the second group picture from behind its plastic and folded it neatly into my left pocket. I had to get back to cleaning anyway.

**Bridgette (Tuesday 5:30am) **

I savored the taste of the salty, early-morning B.C. air. The weather was glorious, and I tried to make the most of it. The bottoms of my sneakers tapped lightly against the paved sidewalk as I continued with my usual rounds through the friendly streets of my neighborhood.

Panting, I decided I was tired enough and headed home. No one under my family's roof was awake yet, even though I had crawled out of bed more than two hours before. "Early bird" they'd call me, much to my own distaste.

I took a quick shower, and changed into my usual light blue hoodie and capris. Downstairs, I grabbed a quick granola bar from our wooden pantry, took a seat on the couch, and switched on the TV.

It was then it hit me exactly what day, what _important_ day, it was: Today was my very first day of my very last year of high school.

A small smile curved on my lips.

**Cody (Tuesday, 7:45am) **

Today is the day. Finally. Today I will be a man. Today I will be "cool". Today is my first day as a senior.

I will no longer be looked down at. Everyone will look up to me, Cody-da-man! I've been waiting for this very day for so long, it's not funny. But it's finally here. Woo hoo!

**Courtney (Tuesday, 7:45am) **

The first day of school is always very haywire. My hair would be a mess, my speech papers scattered all over the kitchen table and floor, and I wouldn't even have time for breakfast. In the end, I was luckily able to pull through, but like, barely.

7:56 I left my house, and scurried all the way to school. I was late. The bell had already rung. My best friends-Allison and Margaret-met me there by campus.  
"You're late."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"This isn't good for our permanent records, Courtney."

"I know, I know."

I could stand the topic of our conversation. So I pulled them both inside the school building (much to their big complains of being dragged), trying to avoid getting noticed.

**Duncan (Tuesday, 10am)**

About a month ago, my parents told me we were moving east to Quebec. They didn't tell me, but I knew their reasons. My carelessness. My too-occasional visits to juvenile jail. They wanted to get as far from home as possible. But to me, home wasn't very far away. We're only moving one province over, after all. My folks hadn't realized, but trouble always seemed to follow me from behind. They wanted me to start over with my life, though I don't see how. They say there's always been a good side to Mr. Duncan the Delinquent, but hey-they can't be too sure.

**Gwen (Tuesday, 11:55am) **

I flipped my notebook to a fresh page and started to copy the notes.

"Now class, remember your 10-page essay is due for Thursday.

Half the class groaned. I didn't listen, nor care. I just continued to jot down the long note written in cursive on the board.

Then I heard snickering from behind.

I turned, only took a peek, and went straight back to work. Those girls-two of the most popular and pretty at my school-looked at me, then laughed. I could hear my name being called multiple times, and not all in a good way.

I sighed, and fixed my eyes to the clock, waiting desperately for it to strike twelve. Lunchtime.

- - - - - -

To be Continued. :3

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Kay, so it just so happens the whole chapter took me only a few hours to complete, so let's say I didn't put too much effort into this piece. So sorry if I sorta messed the whole story up so far. It's guaranteed the 2nd chappie's bound to better. :3

**A Few Extra Stuff you Guys should Know**

-All the characters are seperated across Canada, back to their original homes. Some live in the same place (as part of the plot). And I'm not giving any spoilers (cough, cough) like where the characters [live, etc but I promise you'll learn where they all do along the way.

So anyways, liked it? Hated it? Leave a review! xD


	2. Meetings, Movings, and More Drama

So I finally got around to posting the 2nd chappie up here. What adventures and drama await the beloved (used-to-be) campers today? Read on! XD

Disclaimer: I _still_ don't own Total Drama Island. Don't rub it in.

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**Duncan (Tuesday, 12pm)**

I overslept. Nothing new there.

_But._

Once I woke up at around noon, I definitely sensed something wrong, I could hear the family car running, familiar voices quarrelling, and on top of that, my room was _empty_.

Well, almost. A quick change of clothes hung vertically inside my closet, and my usual black-skull messenger bag slumped like a potato sack beside my bed.

A robbery? Theft, maybe? _Were we being under attack_? Most likely.

I ran out the main doorway onto our front porch, gripping the red metal railing tightly. My parents stood in the driveway, stuffing bags and loot into the back trunk of our old-fashioned Toyota. They seemed to be arguing about the plenty cardboard boxes that stacked one-on-top-of-the-other beside the garage.

"Johnny, I told you. We should've called for a truck. We don't have any more room." Mom pointed to out trunk, which was already more than filled.

"And I told _you_, Elouisa, that it would blow our cover."

"But still. We might as well cancel the move. We can't afford to leave all these things behind."

"We're moving. _Today_."

I could tell Mom was about to object, but that was pretty much when Dad spotted me, and spoke.

"Hey, son. It's moving day."

'What? _Today_?' My fists clenched with pure anger.

"Go grab your stuff."

My fingers dropped. I could do nothing about it. I had to obey.

I sprinted back upstairs, grabbed my things, headed back outside, and slammed the door behind me.

My parents were already in the car, ready-and-all, their faces peering from the car windows.

Somehow, they were able to solve their problem. It was either they were able to stuff all the boxes into the trunk, or they had stashed them in the garage, and would come back for it all later.

"Ready to go?" I could've sworn Mom was grinning.

I shrugged, and slipped into the backseat. And we drove away.

**Lewshana (Tuesday, 12:05am)**

I gotta admit that, as soon as I heard the lunch bell ring, I ran out to the cafeteria faster than anyone else.

Total snore-worthy lectures. Brick-weight piles of mind-boggling assignments and essays. The only thing that could cheer me up was a good, heavy meal.

Once I reached the school's cafeteria, I could already see some of the students lined-up by the long gray counters, trays held in front of them, waiting for the cafeteria ladies to dump eons of food on their plates.

Today's Special: Meatloaf and Fries. Mmmm.

I grabbed a red tray and went to get me some chow, when suddenly I got into a sudden collision causing me to regretfully bump into a _certain_ someone.

I was about to get up and apologize, when I heard-

_"Lewshana?!?"_

_It _was a voice I hadn't heard in a very long time. But I definitely knew _who's_ it was.

_"Heather?"_

**Cody (Tuesday, 12:10pm)**

Okay, so really, none of my seventeen plans to be cool and popular have worked. _Yet_. I'm still as determined as ever, but I admit I _am_ disappointed. I mean, I thought of them all summer.

Some of my plans

Get on the P.A. and announce that Cody-da-man is on the market for a totally "cool" club. Results: Failed.

Flirt.

Results: Really turned off the ladies-got beaten up several times.

Join the Football team.

Results: Got "kicked out" before I could "try out".

And the list goes on….

Then suddenly, I got an idea. One, which was sure to succeed.

It just so happens my locker was right next to the most popular guy in school's.

So I waited all lunch, for him to come for his books or show up. Until finally-

"Hey! It's the Codster!"

Bingo.

"Geoff my man! Great to see you! Say…you sure look especially _gloomy_ today."

"Me? _Gloomy_? You've got to be kidding me-"

"You miss Bridgette, don't you?"

Geoff pursed his lips together, looking both his sides, afraid someone would see him _upset_. "How'd you know?"

"It was pretty obvious actually, with your crying outbursts in the washroom, you math notebook filled with her name, and-"I realized I was going a bit _too_ far. "-you know, I _could _get to two back together…"

"Seriously dude?"

"Yep, guaranteed. Remember a while back when I hooked up Gwen and Trent?"

"But they-"

"Well they made up, didn't they?"

"Yeah. But Bridgette's all the way in Vancouver and-"

"Don't sweat it. I've handled problems just like it before."

Geoff grinned. "Kay, thanks man. I believe you. And if you can really get Bridge and I together then-I'll have to owe you big time."

And he grabbed his books and headed toward the next hall.

It worked. It _actually_ worked!

Now all I had to do was get them both together.

But wait-what was that thing Geoff said again? About Bridgette living all the way in _B.C._?

Yeah, I must've forgotten. I was too busy thinking about the big reward I'd get once I accomplished the whole mission-

_Instant Popularity._

**Trent (Tuesday, 1pm)**

4th period I'm sitting in Chemistry class, tapping the edges of my desk with my fingertips, trying to think up of a new beat for my latest song.

I wasn't really paying attention to the lesson. I really couldn't; there was too much on my mind then.

"So Trent-wanna be my partner for this totally cool and awesome exploding experiment thingy???"

The unmistakable voice of psycho Izzy boomed loudly in my ears.

Just my luck-the girl's been bothering me all day.

"I'm sorry, Izzy. But you're _really_ not my type."

"What? Who said I was _into_ you? The only reason I've been following you around and stalking you all day long is because you're practically the only person I know at this school. Besidesss, you're really not my type either. I am wayyyy more interested in guys like Owen-all funny and gross and stuff. I reallyyy miss him. Except for when he pushed me in front of the maniac psycho killer with a hook? Yeah, that was totally uncalled for. And when-"

"So Izzy, did you know which chemical we put in first?" I said, holding a few examples of them up. I figured it was the only possible way to shut her up.

"Ooooohhhh! This one." And with that, she dumped the blue chemical into the experiment capsule pot, then dumped the nine-rest of them right afterwards.

I gave a sigh. I ended up being her partner anyway.

**Izzy (Tuesday, 1:30pm)**

Oh my gosh! Today was so awesome! Kay, so I was in doing Chemistry and my partner was Trent and then I TOTALLY blew up our experiment and set the fire alarm on! Then the sprinklers were activated to put out all the smoke, and then the professor sent me to the principal's office. And it was SO FUNNY because when I got there Principal Walters was asking me all these questions like "Do you have a criminal record?" and stuff and I was all like "Not really. But I WAS on this totally awesome reality TV show called Total Drama Island, where I jumped off this HUGE cliff, dressed like a bear and scared everyone, and EVEN got covered in poison ivy (which surprisingly felt good)!" Then he literally fell off his chair and instructed me to return to class. But I REFUSED because I wanted to tell him about that time when I shot random people with a tranquilizer gun! And suddenly the paramedics had to come because apparently he was having a seizure? So I go "Later Principal Walters!" and then I skipped back to 5th period.

**DJ (Tuesday, 1:45pm)**

During 5th period, I excused myself from class and went for a short break at the water fountain.

Man, the lessons today were hard. I needed to free myself from all the stress.

After a few more gulps, I headed back towards my Math class, ready to receive the homework that'd literally kill me.

Then I heard a scream.

A girl's.

_Or _at least, one that _sounded_ like a girl's.

Realizing it wasn't just me, I went to trace where it had come from, and discovered it originated from two halls down.

Then I saw it: A girl, pinned against a wall by another guy; an afraid and threatened look on her face.

"Please, Jared._ Don't_," pleaded the girl, fighting the tears that streamed down her pale cheeks.

"Then tell me why you broke up with me," he said, increasing his grip.

"No, please. You were too dangerous.

He scowled, and I could tell by the menacing look on his face that he was just about to grip tighter or even hurt her. So I stepped in. "Leave the girl alone."

He let go of her shoulders, causing her to crash bum-first to the floor, and looked straight at me. "Oh, yeah? And what were YOU gonna do about it?"

I could see that he had clenched his fists, raised his right arm, and was just about to knock me out when-

I punched him.

I didn't know what came over me. It's really something Mom would scold me about.

He-Jared-was getting up. His expression was intense and I had this too-good feeling that he was going to fight back. But instead, he stood up, turned back, and muttered "Fine, you can have her. I don't care.", and turned the opposite direction.

The girl's face lit up, and she ran to hug me. "My hero." We stayed in the same position for a long time. Until the bell for 6th period rang.

She let go, waved goodbye flirtatiously, and went to get her books.

I wasn't sure what to think, or feel. I mean, I had literally saved a life, stood up to someone's "jerk", and maybe even got a girl in the process. But the whole moment had just whizzed by, leaving me with really only a few seconds to give one small thought about it.

**Bridgette (Tuesday, 2pm) **

"…I could see the familiar grey-black silhouette shadow peering from the old brick alley wall. It took me a few split seconds to reminisce and piece together the puzzle pieces of each of the memories and clues, but suddenly, I knew who the culprit was. I took a few steps closer, and realized that my prediction was correct-it was none other than-"

"Fabulous story!" My homeroom/English teacher clasped her hands together with a pleased look on her face. "You truly had an interesting summer."

"But I wasn't finished-"

"Please do sit, Bridgette."

I did so reluctantly, and scurried back to my seat near the back row, disappointed.

"Bridgette, that was amazing."

I spun around to find an old friend-Matt-someone who I had a small crush on over the past few years.

"Well, thanks. I-"

"Did you think of it just now?"

I turned scarlet red, nodded, and quickly turned back to the mini-lesson. I couldn't help myself.

"Say, Bridge. Interested in going out tonight?"

I bit my lip, blushing like, mad. _Should I_? I weighed the options until finally, I agreed. "Sure, pick me up at six."

"Great. Awesome."

"Yeah, totally."

Great. I sounded like a dork.

- - - - -

To be continued.

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Uh oh. Looks like Bridgette's forgetting about a _certain_ someone.

Lol, anways, hope you liked it.

**Author's Notes**

-This chappie didn't turn out as well as I hoped, but I rushed through it yet again. Please don't kill meh! I promise to put all my time and effort into my next one. x3

Anyways, leave a review? Thanks.


	3. Surprise, Surprise

Whew. Finally got to posting this up. Thanks for the lovely reviews guys, hopefully some of your questions and comments will be answered somewhere in this chappie, lol. ANYWHOOO, I bring you, Chapter 3. XD

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**Bridgette (Tuesday, 11:30pm)**

The date was a success. Matt took me surfing (apparently, he's pretty good) at out our local beach just a few blocks away, and we went for dinner afterwards. It was funny, because we both were soaking wet and so improperly undressed for the occasion (Ahem, the fanciest restaurant in town), that we pretty much had everyone's eyes on the two of us. And as much as I usually hate too much attention, I loved it tonight.

Matt was wonderful; all sweet and thoughtful, and overall a really great guy to be with.

"So Bridge," he'd say. "What have you been up to while I wasn't around?" (Matt moved to California 3 years before, but returned to stay that very summer.)

"Well, you know-surfing, writing poems and haiku, my job…" (I rolled my eyes here) "…and oh! I was on this TV show called 'Total Drama Island' two years back."

"Really? Cool. You were on reality TV? How come it didn't air in the States?"

"It was one of those Canadian-only type of shows," I had explained as-of-matter-factly. "We did challenges, met new friends, and stuff. It was a lot of fun." (I decided to leave out all the unruly details).

"Aww. Too bad. I would've loved to see you on my television," he said, flashing his famous smile that I had always loved.

'_Oh, he's so sweet…'_ I thought. _'And he reminds me so much of-'_

"Well, it's getting pretty late." Matt took a quick glance at his watch. "_We_ should get going."

I loved how he referred to us as 'we'.

And so he brought me home, said his goodbyes (I did too), and drove off.

I entered the house with the key hidden under the welcome mat, quietly so I wouldn't wake my parents. Much to my distaste, the floors shook and creaked every time I took a weary step closer to my bedroom upstairs.

I had a quick shower, dressed into my blue fleece pajamas, and slipped under the warm covers of my queen-sized bed.

The wired phone that sat against my cherry night table kept me awake, with its continuous beeping sound and its announcing of "YOU'VE GOT A MESSAGE!" every mere five seconds.

I gave a yawn, then a sigh, then finally gave in to answering my phone messages.

The first two were from my two friends, who wanted to know how my date was. I replied "Good" yet they demanded more details. I'd tell them at school tomorrow, I promised.

During the last one, I closed my eyes, half-asleep. A familiar voice boomed from the speakers.

"_Hey Bridgette. It's me, Cody remember? From back on the island? So yeah, I just wanted to call to say that Geoff still has it bad for you, and since I bet you still do too, I want to get you two back together…"_

My eyes flew wide open.

"…_so give me a call at 416-898-2719, or email me at __cody-da-manhotmail.ca__. I'll be waiting. Oh, and don't ask where I got your phone number from, let's say I have my sources."_

Then came the beep.

**Duncan (Wednesday, 4am)**

"…what will they think of me?"

I slowly woke up to the sudden outburst of my dad's voice, only to realize he wasn't talking to me.

"What do you mean, Johnny?" It was Mom's voice, definitely.

"I mean, we're cops. I'm leaving my job to ditch town to save my rebel son?"

"Johnny…"

"What if we're caught, Elouisa?"

"We won't be." And with that, Mom gave Dad a warm smile.

Then she turned back and saw me, wide awake and cross-armed. "Duncan," she said, and she gestured towards the outside scenery from the window.

We were surrounded by trees and buildings mostly. The streets were bare and empty, though I could tell this was an obvious city to be packed and crowded by day. _'Where were we?'_

I turned back to my parents, who were widely grinning.

"Welcome to Quebec," they said in unison.

**Heather (Wednesday, 8:05am)**

With my magenta-colored backpack slumped against my shoulder, I continued to walk to class. For the twentieth time that day, I stared at the small sheet of paper (my schedule) that I gripped tightly in my hand.

My first class of the day: Spec.ED. First off, who names a class _Spec.ED_? Second and most important-what was _Spec.ED_?

Realizing it was the right room, I entered Rm.227, and sat at a desk mid-row.

I leaned back against the table behind (who cares if it was being occupied?) and grabbed the nail file from my pocket. I took note of my surroundings: The room was nearly empty, most of the students late. The teacher (hip, young, tacky, and so 80s) sat at his desk up front, without a care in the world. I rolled my eyes, and went back to doing my nails.

Until finally, the teacher stood, and spoke. The classroom was surprisingly filled then.

"First off-I'm Mr.Grey, or Lewis. Whichever you would like to address me as is fine."

The class nodded, and jotted down mental notes of their first impressions.

"Secondly; as you may recall, this is a fairly new school, and most of you don't know a think about eachother. Bring in, Spec.ED. This program-turned-class is meant to teach you how to communicate better with others, and help you learn about other miscellaneous things not talked about or specified in regular classes. Any questions?"

The class remained silent.

"Very well then, here is your first assignment. You and one other student in this class will pair up and be asked to spend every single moment at school together (with an exception of the classes you don't have with eachother). You will receive brownie points for doing so outside of school too. You will tour the school together, have lunch in the cafeteria together-"

"You mean like a _buddy system_?" I blurted out. The class snorted and snickered with me.

"Well, yes and no. This will only be for a week: Wednesday to Wednesday, then an essay from each of you will be due by next Friday."

I kept my mouth shut this time.

"And here's how we'll do it: I have each of your names written on tiny slips of paper. I will draw two names out of the hat at a time, and those two will be partners-"

"But wait!" I outbursted again. "What if we get someone we _absolutely cannot stand_?"

More chatter.

"The girl thinks she's such a diva," I heard someone say. I took a quick glance behind and crossed my arms. _'Great. Wonderful. Lewshana's in my class.'_

"Well," replied Lewis, who was grinning. "That'd make the whole point of the assignment so much the better, correct?"

'_Was this teacher on crack?'_

"Now." He grabbed two names out of the hat resting top-first on his desk. "Charlotte and Jesse."

And so he continued to call out names, two at a time (partners), until finally only two slips of paper remained in the hat.

Lewis picked them up with a mere snatch, smiled, and turned back to the class. The whole room went silent once more until the words _"Heather and Lewshana"_ escaped from his mouth.

Two students in that class almost literally got heart attacks.

**Lewshana (Wednesday, 12pm)**

I couldn't believe it. Me? Partners with _Heather_? Out of all the other around-twenty students in that very class, Miss Queen Bee had to be it? The very thought of it made my poor head explode.

And because of that stupid assignment, I was forced to have lunch with her.

I found her in the very back of the cafeteria, sitting. Alone.

She didn't say one word when I sat down opposite of her. She just continued to pick at her food, giving it the unusual cold stare every now and then.

I continued to gobble down the chicken and salad special that sat before me, and also kept my mouth shut.

"I absolutely hate the whole idea of this assignment."

Did Heather just _talk_?

"Girl, that's one thing we can _both_ agree on."

Heather didn't reply. She just continued to fork at her small plate of pasta.

"You know what," I brought up. "I don't even see why we should eat lunch together. There's no way that Mr. Grey can find out anyway."

Heather pursed her lips tightly together as she motioned her eyes over to their Spec.ED teacher himself-Lewis-who sat only a few tables away. "He'll see us," she whispered. "And what else? Oh, yeah-this cafeteria's infested with security cameras. He could run through the tapes just to make sure everyone's going according to the plan (or assignment). And I won't allow myself to get a 0."

So Heather _did_ care about the assignment.

Somehow, in some weird sort-of way, Heather was _different_.

"I know what you're thinking," she muttered, coldly. "So stop it. Right _now_."

Did I speak a bit too soon?

Heather gave a long sigh, and jerked fork towards her right, pointing towards a group of people nearby. "Over there," she explained. "You will see why I feel so miserable."

I gazed over to the table two-away. A large group of [popular people crowded around it-cheerleaders, football players, and etc. Then came the surprise-sitting near the middle, looking as familiar as ever, was unmistakably, Lindsey.

"They won't let me into their little 'clique'. The little traitor actually remembers how I happened to treat her back on the island, and apparently, she's their supposed 'leader'."

I was still in shock, though I was able to speak out the words on my mind anyway. "Well you've got to admit, the girl's got her reasons."

"Oh, so you're on HER side?" Heather stood, clenching her fists. "Well then, FINE! Go ahead-be friends with _Lindsey_; I don't care! I TRIED to be friends with you Lewshana-" ('Say WHAT?' I thought here) "-but NO, you decided you just go and get on my last nerve, huh? And you know WHAT? I'm already wasting my precious time talking to you, so I am OUT!" And with that, she stormed out the cafeteria, causing quite the scene.

Heather had forgotten about the whole assignment she had appeared to care so much about just minutes before.

"Boy, that sister's got some anger management issues."

**Gwen (Wednesday, 1pm)**

Lunch-was horrible.

And it wasn't just the food.

"Hey, it's weird goth girl." (Apparently, the little nickname had caught on.)

I was eating lunch alone (as always) near the back wall of the cafeteria, minding my own business. Then Natasha and Alexis (the girl's from earlier) came by, with the rest of their group, obviously to bug me.

"Shut up." I answered back, stabbing the fork into the crust of my cold slice of day-old pizza.

"Aww. Look guys. She's trying to talk back." Then they giggled-each and every one of them, mocking me.

I couldn't take this any longer. I had a _very_ short temper. "I said, for you, to SHUT UP!" And I stood, my face starting to tense.

"Oh," said Alexis, placing her index finger to the sly grin forming on her lips. "I think I got her mad."

"I'd mind my own business," I snapped.

"I'd get a life!"

The whole room went dead silent, and suddenly everyone in the cafeteria crowded around us. Plenty of chatter floated between people's head and a good share of "oohs" and "awes" spread all across.

"I have a life, thank you very much. I'm just worried about you, because one you have right now isn't doing you much good."

Again, dead silence.

I smirked. I was winning. And winning well.

"Well," fought back Alexis. "At least I have friends."

"Are you saying I don't?"

"You kidding? You're a total loner-you have no friends, Nobody likes you; it's no wonder you don't have a boyfriend."

I bit my lip, hard. I had to think of something.

"But I do."

"Yeah, I'm so sure."

"But honestly-I do. And what's more? I can prove it."

**Ezekiel (Wednesday, 9:30pm)**

"He needs to get out more."

"But doctor-"

"I won't hear of it. He will go to attend that public school near your area. I'm pretty sure his remarkable home-school credits will get him into his senior year."

"But poor, poor Ezekiel-he's never gone to a real school-"

"Now, now. He'll live. Arrange for it tonight, and he should be able to attend the Northside Chestnut Highschool by tomorrow."

I could hear Mom trying to argue, then a sigh, and a sign that she had given in.

"Go to bed, son," said Mom. She saw me, peeking from the wall onto the kitchen, where she was having her late meeting with the family doctor, discussing my future.

"But it's not even ten-"

"Obey, Ezekiel." So I did, and went upstairs to my room.

My first day of highschool? I was psyched man! A bit nervous, sure, but hey-I'd get used to it. _Definitely._

**Sadie (Thursday, 10:45am)**

Oh my gosh-being a senior is so much fun! I mean we could do SO MANY MORE things that we weren't able to do as juniors. I totally-

"Sadieee, do you mind if I see you schedule again?" It was Katie, my BFFFEL (Best Female Friend for Eternal Life), who stood beside me as I got out my books for my next class.

I took it out of my pocket and handed it to her, grinning. "Isn't it great how are lockers are like, right next to eachother?"

"Yeah," said Katie, as she continued to read and study my schedule carefully, and compare it with hers. "But it sucks how we have none of ours classes together..."

"But we share a lunch period!"

"Thank goodness for that!" Katie smiled, and then leaned gently against her locker. Then suddenly she blushed, biting her bottom lip as to avoid turning redder. "Sadie," she whispered, gesturing towards one of the lockers across. "Who's _that_?"

I followed her gaze over to a guy, tall, who had dark brown hair and warm green eyes. I had to admit, he was gorgeous.

"His name is Josh, Katie. He's in my History class," I told her. "I've talked to him a bit, and you two are so meant for eachother!"

"Aww, really? Because he really looks like your type."

"You think so? But he was totally checking you out!

"Really, Sadie?"

"Mhmm. Now we can do with the matchmaking later, Katie. Right now, we've got to get to class."

**Trent (Thursday, 11:30am)**

"Trent, your face is in your chicken soup."

'_What?!?!'_

After snapping back to my senses, I quickly recoiled myself out of the plastic bowl and grabbed the nearest piece of cloth (which happened to be my school jacket in this case) to wipe my face.

Izzy sat across from me, laughing hysterically at my lunacy.

"Tell me, exactly how long was I like that way?"

"For about the last ten minutes." Again, she laughed.

"You could've woken me sooner."

"Sorryyyyyyy. But it was just too FUNNYYYY!"

"That helps." I didn't try to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

Izzy didn't pay attention anyway. "Ooooohhhh! Trent, remember when you had to jump out of this helicopter with DJ then he pushed you off and-"

My phone rang. Perfect timing.

"Trent?"

I couldn't believe it.

"Gwen? Is it really you?"

"Yeah."

"I can't believe it! So, how's life after the show?"

"Pretty okay. Now listen-something came up, and I really need your help. I-"

I could hear Izzy in the background, talking about heights and something about fishcakes. I shunned her, and went back to the conversation.

"Yeah?"

"So do you think you'll be able to come here to stay in New Brunswick for a week or two?"

"I'll try, I promise-but wait, what's this big emergency?"

"I'll tell you once you get here. Please, as soon as you can."

"Of course, Gwen."

"Great, thanks."

Then she hung up.

**Courtney (Thursday, 1:45am)**

"Now class, let us continue from our review of our homework last night. Turn to pg.42 and read until the next five pages. Then take out a lined sheet of paper, and summarize and explain the following text. You have until the end of this period."

I got straight to work. I skimmed through each of the passages then grabbed my yellow notebook, ripped a page out, and stared on my notes.

Then I heard a growl. My stomach. I hadn't eaten all day.

I couldn't help myself. In the end, I was forced (forced I'm telling you!) to take out the chocolate bar that I had stashed before going to school, from out of purse.

"Courtney?"

"Yes?"

"There will be no food allowed in this classroom. I quite surprised with you actually, but you'll have to hand that to me anyways, thank you very much."

I stood up, clutching the only half-eaten chocolate bar in my right hand. The class looked dumbfounded, shocked, when I had dropped it the nearest corner of Mr. Rodriquez's desk. "I'm really sorry."

He just nodded, and I headed back to my won desk, still a bit hungry. I had to get straight back to work, since I was already behind.

Then I heard a door swing open, yet I still didn't look up.

"Ahh," I heard my History teacher say. "I see our new student has arrived. Late, I admit, but it's his first day. Class, let me introduce you to-"

I didn't pay attention. It didn't concern me much.

There was plenty of chatter (supposedly about the new student) and voices being heard at this time. I listened a little, but still never looked.

And then I heard shuffling beside me. Letting my curiosity get the better of me, I took a sidelong glance to my left, only to come across the biggest surprise of the day, maybe my life, so far. He saw me, then smirked.

"Missed me, princess?"

- - - - -

To be continued.

* * *

Uh oh. This can't be good. XD

Sorry for the straightforwardness of it. I was just reallyyy lazy.

Lol, anyway, hope you liked it. Leave a review? I'd appreciate it. 3


	4. Life is Insane

HAHAHA! I feel so ebil for making you guys wait so long. :

But I'd finally gotten to finishing it recently, so AHEM! Here it is. x3

Enjoy. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Total Drama Island. The producers do.

* * *

_I blinked. A few times, before realizing what he just did. What was he to just walk off like that? That jerk. The nerve of him._

_ That Duncan._

* * *

**PART 4 C:  
**

8D

**Duncan (Thursday, 2:50pm)**

One would've thought that Courtney would've been a little more optimistic to see me, but to tell you the truth, she wasn't exactly thrilled.

During the whole History period I tried to launch her into conversation, which resulted in getting a half-hour detention for both of us, which she wasn't so ecstatic about either.

" Princess-" I aimless called after her as she headed out the door once the class was over.

"Come on, Courtney!" insisted one of her friends, who gestured her to follow her and other girl outside the school.

"Coming!" Courtney scurried towards them, her books held effortlessly in her right arm. She sped right passed me, ignoring me once again. I gave a slightly-irritated sigh, then trailed behind the group. After a few minutes of that, I grabbed Courtney by the arm and yanked her away from her two friends.

She gave me a displeased look, placing her two hands on both her hips. "What gives?"

I rolled my eyes, then gave the quick reminder. "We have detention, remember?"

"I don't care," she muttered, and she tried to pull away, using her free hand. I didn't let her. "Listen, sweetheart. We could get in even more trouble if you don't go. Would you like that?"

Silence.

Courtney gave a despiteful stare, then shook her head. "No. I'll go."

"Courtney! Who's that you're with?" It another one of her friends, who stood only a few feet away, a look of straight-forward disapproval spread across her face..

"Err…he's just this new kid…who I'm just helping find their way around the school." She, Courtney, bit her lip, hoping they would buy the whole scenario.

They shrugged, and yelled "We'll meet you outside!" And they were gone.

"New kid?" I repeated in distaste. "Asking for help? Please princess, that's totally ruining my rep."

"Oh please, like you're not ruining mine!" She snapped back, then slowly calmed herself, and sighed. "I can't be seen around with you. That'd just totally kill my reputation…"

"And why is that so exactly?"

"It's just that…you really aren't someone people like me around here hang out with around here. You belong over there, and me, over there." She gestured to a farthest wall first, to her friends leaving the front school doors next.

I raised an eyebrow, sharply. "Are you saying I belong to a wall?"

"No, just at least twenty feet from me."

"I still don't get this school." I leaned against the random locker behind me, crossing my arms.

Another sigh.

"But right now's an exception," she murmured, unsure of herself. "We need to get to detention before the principal marks us late."

I smirked. "Whatever you say, darling."

**Bridgette (Friday, 8:45am)**

"Bridgette, you okay?" At the sudden outburst of the voice, I shot back up, panting breathlessly.

I must've been asleep; I was, to be honest. In my dreams, there was Geoff, and his simultaneous repeating of "It's okay Bridge, I'm always happy as long as you are". His words were said friendly, but they absolutely stung through the heart. _Painfully.  
_  
"Bridgette!" The voice was much louder this time, awaking me back into full consciousness.

I blinked, once, and scanned the surroundings of reality.

I was in the middle of English class, sitting back-row, oblivious to the current lesson. Apparently, the teacher up front was talking about some important essay that I had missed hearing the most of. And to my left, was DJ. Who, by coincidence, went to my school.

"Yeah?" I answered, pretty much half-asleep.

"Gee, you look kinda…dead, Bridgette."

"I didn't get much sleep last night," I admitted, warily. The urge to bonk my head back on top of the desk came over me. I tried my hardest to let it pass.

He gave me the look, and said, "I…expected to here that, since, you're wearing your PJs to school and all…?"

My eyes widened as the realization came over me. Could I be more of a dork? My cheeks flushed deep scarlet. _'My bad…'  
_  
DJ continued. "Is something wrong?"

I thought for a second. There was absolutely no way I'd tell him the complete whole truth of it, despite the fact he'd been a great friend to me during the long run. Instead, I whispered one word: "Love."

He nodded. "Tell me about it. Man, there's this girl-"

"Samantha?" I guessed. It was sort of an out-of-the-blue-one, though it had some reasoning to it.

Another nod. "-who's been following me all week. For some crazy reason, she thinks we're together."

I paused for a second, then replied. "Do you like her?"

"Not that way. She likes me."

"Ouch."

Then the bell for next period rang, and ironically, so did my phone. I headed outside, grasping my books in one arm, and after waving goodbye to DJ, I pulled it out of my pocket. Clutching it with my free hand, I raised it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey. It's me, babe."  
_  
Matt._

I swallowed hard, biting my bottom lip at the same time.

"Oh, right. Hey, what's up?"

I didn't know what to think anymore, didn't know what to feel. Because everytime I pictured Matt, I pictured him instead, which could only make things even more uncomfortable for me and even more complicated. At this point, the only feeling I could possibly feel was guilt.  
**  
Gwen (Friday, 10am)**

I honestly couldn't believe it.

We made a big promise that he would-and he lived up to it. He was just that kind of guy. And I loved him for it.

So here I was-at the local airport, waiting. Once Trent exits his plane, I'll forget about the fact I skipped school just to see him. Once Trent comes over to me, I won't worry again about the consequences. Once Trent says the first word I've heard from him in person in months, I won't be able to get him off my weak state of mind. And forget to breathe, maybe.

Then, an elderly man's voice boomed from the megaphone.

"Attention, everyone. In just a few moments, the aircraft on Flight 1782 will be ready for landing. Please motion over to the sidelines to wait. Thank you."

I held my breath as the plane swifted by, and landed. This was it.

The planes exit-door swung open, its passengers clumsily grabbed their luggages and headed out, some tripping on their way. After a handful of them came Trent, who had his acoustic guitar strapped to his back and two duffel bags held in one hand. With the other, he waved to me.

I waved back.

Then he marched towards me, though quickly glanced back for a quick second or two as if to make sure he wasn't forgetting something, or wanted to reassure himself of it. Trent shrugged, and continued.

"Hey," I whispered once he reached me.

"Hey," he said back.

"Okay, so were you going to kiss me, hug me, or something?"

He smiled. "I wouldn't mind doing both."

So he wrapped his arms around me, and kissed me. I did the same, momentarily, until-

I saw Izzy.

Coming closer to the two of us.

"Trent!" I snapped, as shocked as I was. "You brought Miss Psycho along?"

Trent looked at me, almost apologetically. "Her name's Izzy, if you forgot. Gwen, you  
might not get this, I mean, hey-I don't-but she's like a little sister to me now. I had to take her along; she wanted to come so badly! And besides-"

"Besides _what_?"

"She wants to see Owen. She told me she's probably cutting her vacation short to visit P.E.I. during mid-trip."

I sighed. "How long will you be staying here again?"

"About three weeks."

"Alright then."

Red-haired Izzy walked (or rather skipped; causing a few stares) over to us; a too-wide grin spread across her face. "Gwen!"

"Izzy." I tried to smile.

"So-where will be staying? A dojo? A cave infested with bears or something??"

"How about," I suggested somewhat sarcastically, "Somewhere human?"

Trent shot me the glare I was trying to avoid.

"Ohhhh! Like a zoo? I went to one once-when I was five. Then I accidentally sent a few things on fire that the insurance just couldn't cover…so I was banned from it for good! Isn't that great?"

"Sort of." I looked at the both of them. "We should get going."

**Eva (Friday, 11:30am)**

If it just so happened that you [pitifully went to my school, then I would be the very last person you'd ever want to mess with.

Trust me.

"Look! It's Eva-clear the way!"

And they did. Not because I was pretty, or popular, or any of that stuff. Simply because they were afraid of me.

I headed to the cafeteria, and went over to a random table. By giving the others around it 'the look', just like that, I had the whole table to myself,

Then all eyes were on me.

"Well! What are you chumps looking at?!?" My fists were ready.

Everyone of them immediately turned away.

They knew the consequences. They knew they were afraid of me.

I sat back down, and smiled a bit. Bitterly. Like the seasoning sprinkled all over today's shame-of-a-lunch. I enjoyed victory.

Then came up a voice-probably the principal's-on the P.A. system.

"Evelyn. Evelyn Sanders-please report to my office immediately. This means you, Eva."

He knew I hated that name.

I stood up, a little raged with sudden anger, and walked towards the cafeteria doors, wondering which of these hundred twerps had told on me this time. Of course, no one came to confess. Yet.

I exited the room after taking a last distasteful glance, making sure glares were passed around, and that they understood. They did.

Because they were afraid of me.

And so I went, and headed towards Principal What's-his-name's office, arms crossed,

I wasn't surprised that I was called over there, Please, I'd gotten into trouble so many times it's not even funny. But actually, detention hadn't happened for a long time.

The principal didn't enjoy my visits much either.

So this had to be special.

Once I got there, I was startled to see that he (the principal) didn't have that angered and stern look on his face (that he used to hide his fear, no doubt) that he usually did. His expressions were absolutely calm and professional. This had to be really special.

"Evelyn; I hope you realize that you've been invited here for a reason. And please-do sit."

I stared at him as if he was joking.

"So what the heck did I do this time?" I made sure there was sarcasm in my voice, I sighed, and plopped onto the chair purposely positioned across from him, still cross-armed.

The principal (Mr. Roberts) cleared his throat, and began. "It's not just that-it's everything. Eva, don't think we've been blind. We know about it all. We know about your temper and displeasing bullying behavior,"

"Yeah, and?"

"Our school would like very much to change that."

Just before I was able to ask the old man "How?", two separate figures stepped into the studiously-decorated room.

"This is Antoinette, and the other is named Pierre," he spoke, and continued, "They're the foreign students who were hired to _control_ you."

_Control_ me? What was I-some _experiment_?

"I still don't get this."

"You shouldn't." Principal What's-his-name smiled. Evilly. Like how those maniac villain guys do on TV.

My eyes widened. "You won't get away with this!" I shouted expressively. "I will not-"

Suddenly, I felt two hands grip my arms and pull me out of the office. Apparently, it was the foreign pair (who were ironically boy/girl twins) who used their free hands to smartly cover my lips from outbursting again.

"Elle est folle!" said the male of the two, in French.

The other agreed. "Elle est dans le fait d'avoir besoin de thérapie!"

I didn't know what they were saying (who knows French anyways???) but then again, maybe it was a good thing I didn't.

**Trent (Friday, 11:45am)**

We decided to take a cab home.

Gwen insisted not to ride a bus, prior to Izzy, who may cause a few public scenes. I hated to agree with this, but, she _did_ have a point.

No one talked much on our way to the Ramando residence. Except Izzy, of course, who pretty much blabbed the whole way through. She reminisced our past experiences on the island, and when the topic about the whole 'Heather' incident came up, I could tell Gwen wanted to explode. Not literally; I mean, she tried to hide it, but that only made things even more awkward between us.

When our taxi finally pulled up to our destination, Gwen, who with no doubt, didn't speak for the whole ride, amazingly _said something_.

"Alright, listen. I'm no tour guide, or anything, so I'm going to sum this up short…"

With that, she grabbed her spare key, unlocked the main entrance, and invited us inside.

"There's the kitchen," she explained, pointing to one of the rooms. "And over there's the living room, and the powder room, and the-"

Gwen stated a few others, then gestured us upstairs.

"Trent, you can stay in the guest room at the end of the hall. Izzy can share my room. The washroom's between the two of ours, but besides that, all the other rooms up here are strictly off limits, understand? Now-"

"Is there something I don't know?"

I turned dead pale. It wasn't any of our voices, I swear. I looked over to Gwen, then Izzy, and knew they were thinking the same thing. We all spun around, only to find out that the real voice had belonged to an unfamiliar (to me, at least) man in his early twenties.

I gulped. "Er. Sir-who might you be?"

The man smiled. "I'm Carson-" He held at his hand, and I reluctantly shook it. "-I'm Gwen's brother and probably the reason she joined Total Drama Island in the first place, and met you. You're Trent, right? Her boyfriend? Yeah, Gwennie talks about you all the time."

Gwen flushed a bright scarlet. I grinned playfully at her, but she immediately shook it off, and turned to her older sibling. "Carson, you aren't supposed to be here. You said you were going to be at a retreat for the next couple of weeks?"

He shook his head. "It was cancelled last minute. Besides, I knew something was up, and my trumpet needed polishing bad."

"You're a musician?" I asked, with curiosity.

"Yep. Have been for the last fifteen years."

I admit-I was impressed.

And before I knew it, Carson and I were launched into a non-stop conversation about everything music for the next half-hour. Izzy, who had gotten extremely bored decided to raid the house for something to burn down. And Gwen- she just stood there rolling her eyes, and even if she didn't say it out loud, I definitely knew the words on her mind:

"Life is insane."

**Katie (Friday, 12:10pm)**

"Oh! Sadie, look! It's Josh! And he's-" I took a deep breath, then let out a squeal. "-coming this way!"

Sadie, who happened to be my BFF, turned away from her cafeteria lunch meal (which, I would've been eating happily if I wasn't so distracted) and gazed over at my direction. She stared for a bit, then smiled. "Oh my gosh! He just totally looked at you, Katie! I swear!"

"Really?" I blushed, soothed the bangs of my dark ebony hair, and looked straight back at Josh, trying not to embarrass myself at the same time. I was totally hoping that it wasn't a fluke-a fluke that he just smiled at my direction spontaneously, and that he _did_ truly notice me.

"You should so go talk to him!" suggested Sadie. She had a dreamy expression twinkling in her eyes, and used that tone of voice friends usually use when they want you to ask a guy out or something. "You two are _absolutely perfect_ for eachother."

"Alright then," I said, standing up from my seat. I tried to make it seem like I wasn't interested, though I totally was. Because everyone knows that you shouldn't be too into a guy, not until he gives in to asking you to be his girlfriend, of course. That was impossible in this case for me, but I wasn't going to show it. At least, I was going to try.

So I walked closer over to him, biting my lower lip the whole time. I was nervous. Honestly, who couldn't be when you were just about to go talk to the one-and-only Josh Mackenzie? The whole school adored him; me especially. I was his soulmate, and I was going to go tell him that.

Wait-but what was I supposed to say?

"Hey Josh, I think you're adorably cute and we should go out!" No way, that'd probably cause him to issue some sort of restraining order against me. And I wouldn't want that. But what _could_ I say?

Think, Katie. Think.

I mentally reviewed the amazing guide-to-guys I had found while flipping through a magazine at the dentists one weekend. I was so into it, I had it completely memorized. Just in case-just in case, I'd get into a situation like this. I was thankful for it now.

Okay, so Tip #27: Keep it cool. Talk to him like you just want to be friends; guys prefer girls who aren't interested in them.

Got it. Now to Phase Two.

I kept walking, quickening my pace each second, until I finally stood beside his table. Boy, was he even more gorgeous up close. Please Katie, _don't_ sound stupid. "Josh," I said, in my most cool and collected voice I could gather up to. "How's it…going?"

Josh stared at me blankly, blinking a couple of times before he responded. "Umm. Good?"

"That's great then. I…uh-"

Great. I sounded stupid.

He looked at me almost as if he felt sorry for me, then turned away. My stomach did a stabbing flip-flop. "No, wait. I-"

Before I was able to finish, a giant mob of Josh-crazed fan girls came out of nowhere and almost literally ran me over. Of course I wasn't the only one.

"JOSH! JOSH! OVER HERE-JOSHHH!" The crowd chanted, shoving to get a better glimpse of the movie-star-look-alike. I sighed, then struggled my way back to my own table, where Sadie was waiting for me.

"Gosh, that Josh sure is something. Huh, Katie?"

"Yeah, he is."

"I mean look-there's Shelby (the most popular girl at school), who's ALL OVER him. What does he see in her?"

And that was it. The final straw in a bagful of them. Somehow, my perfect fairytale seemed farther off than I had thought.

**Lewshana (Friday, 1:35pm)**

Friday of the first week was supposedly-someone told me-'Label Day'. It was when every single junior and senior at school was slapped with some random label by the popular clique, based on their judgement of one week. Yeah, so really, no one can know someone else totally in just seven days, so, usually, the names they gave you were pretty much entirely based on your looks. Which, of course, would probably make these labels shallow and absolutely without true meaning.

So right now was Friday afternoon. The popular clique (which consisted of about twenty people) worked pretty fast, and even got the list placed on the bulletin board on the same day. Heather and I went to look at it together, only because of that stupid project.

"Look what they called me-the 'Gangster Sister'. I guess that's kind of cool. What did you get, Heather?"

Heather flipped her waist-length black hair to the side, and made a face in disgust. "Miss Queen Bee; I mean puh-lease-they probably just got it off the TDI website or something."

"Hey, 'least you didn't get what some other peeps did. I mean, I would've totally given you one of these other ones-'The Ice Princess Who Thinks she's What She's NOT'?

"Nah. Way too long," Heather remarked. "Hey-look. It's the little traitor's name! HA! Lindsey is…Miss Congeniality?"

"I know! Isn't it great?!?!"

Lindsey popped out from the shuffling crowd, grinning as she came towards us. "I was part of the label committee, but I didn't get to choose it. Porchia did! I just agreed-or disagreed; what's with all these confusing words nowadays? Anywho! It's posted either way-I love it! Don't you?"

I nodded. It was true. Sure Lindsey was a dunce-but a friendly one at that.

Heather, though, didn't take it very well. "Lindsey, just scram. Alright? Got it? Good. Now leave."

"Gee, that was a bit harsh." She looked hurt, but picked up her act fast, smiling and all. "Bye Lequisha! Goodbye, 'The Ice Princess Who Thinks she's What She's NOT AND has BAD hair '!"

I laughed, leaving Heather absolutely speechless. Her hair had almost completely grew back except for a button-sized area on her head, which was absolutely bare.

Good old Lindsey.

Good old karma.

**Courtney (Friday, 2:45pm)  
**

"Alright then," I announced, trying to be as clear as possible. "Here's the deal: We go to the same school now, and, for the sake of keeping my rep, we need to follow some necessary adjustments and rules…"

He rolled his eyes, and mumbled, "You mean _I_ need to follow _your_ necessary adjustments and rules…Typical Courtney."

Right. AS IF I_couldn't_ hear him. I could-perfectly clear, too. So I scolded him for that, and he played another on of his I-love-it-when-you're-mad-princess episodes. Can he get any more obnoxious? This is why I absolutely could not stand him. Ugh.

"Whatever. So okay-here's the first rule: Rule one, everything that may have happened back on the island-that's history. That green Jell-O mishap never happened, and all those fake love scenes we put on-that was so yesterday. And the kiss-did _not_ happen either._Especially_ that. Got it?"

"Sorry, sweetheart; all I'm hearing is 'BLAHBLAHBLAH'." Duncan smirked, obviously only to annoy me. Who exactly did he think he was?

I ignored him, and continued on. "Rule 2: We're from different worlds, so please,_don't _try to cross the line. I hang out with my smart, civilized acquaintances, and you hang out with whoever you want to, as long as it's not me." And just to be safe, I added, "OR my friends."

Then I looked over to him, and glared. It was totally clear he wasn't listening. But seriously-how could he afford to miss something so important?

Typical Duncan.

"And lastly, in connection to Rule 2, we have Rule 3: After this day, you are _not_allowed to talk to me. In fact, just ignore me, because that's probably what I'm going to do with you anyways. Okay?"

He just nodded. "I don't see why you even decided to come up with these dumb rules anyway, princess. I mean, I'm probably going to break every one." He winked.

"Well, just do! Okay? Now scram-I have to get over to my friend's place now."

"For what?"

I scowled. "If you really must know, then it's so we can practice for auditions for 'The West Side Story' on Monday. Nothing you'd be interested in, really."

He almost laughed. "You? Act!"

"It's only for the extra credit," I admitted. "So I need a big part. Besides, everyone needs a hobby right?"

"Ah. Well, I already have one, and you probably know what it is."

"I do."

"I knew it."

"Just shut up."

"I only said like, three words, and you're telling me to shut up?"

"Just do, alright?"

"See you around, princess." And he started to leave off campus, his backpack slung across his shoulder.

I blinked. A few times, before realizing what he just did. What was he to just walk off like that? That jerk. The nerve of him.

That Duncan.

**  
Owen (Friday, 4pm)**

**  
**I never really exercised as a kid. I never tried playing basketball with those other guys, or tried actually trying in cross country. That's probably why when my Mom signed me up for this fitness program yesterday, I couldn't even lift a weight. Which, she says is only a sixtieth of my size.

Ugh! Curse that yummy batch of blueberry muffins!

Why was losing weight so hard? **  
**

Why couldn't I just_kick_ a soccer ball?

Why did those muffins have to be so tastily delicious???

Mom said that junk food was created to test us. That, the more we ate, the more we'd fail in this 'challenge'. That, the more we worked out, the more we'd lose weight and succeed. So, that'd mean, that I was doing bad. Really bad.

"Shapen up," said my trainer. "Our quest is for you to lose ten pounds by the end of these two weeks!"

"And if I don't?"

"Then I still get paid!"

"Gee, that catchphrase sounded awfully like someone I used to know…"

My fitness trainer slapped his forehead, smiled suddenly, and then announced, "My name is Chris MacLean! And I can't believe you STILL haven't figured out who I was when we've been in training for the last two days!"

"No way! You're speaking lies! LIES, I tell you!"

"Actually, I work here part-time when I'm not doing the show. Pays pretty good, too, you know? Now back to business! Give me 517 push-ups! Now!"

In fear that Chris would come up with something even worse if I refused, I did as I was told, but passed out after the first five.

"I love my job."

**  
Geoff (Friday, 7:30pm)**

"Hey-you okay man?" I looked up, and discovered it was just Leo, one of my best buds. He held in his right hand a plastic cup filled with tropical punch, and another one too, which he handed to me.

I faked a smile. "Yeah, I guess."

"Dude!" Leo looked at me, his eyes widened with shock. "You're not usually like this. We're at the greatest party of the year so far, and you're not, well, partying!"

Why was I being this way? I'd usually be, dancing or something at this time. Why was I being so melodramatic about this? I'd usually just chill and forget about it but-

Why couldn't I stop thinking about her?

Because you love her, you douche.

"I…really…don't know…" I murmured, and looked down at my feet. But there was no way I could look upset. I was Geoff, after all. Popular, charming, optimistic, always-cheerful Geoff. Geoff-the guy who was always smiling; Geoff-the guy who made everyone smile. If I looked depressed or something, that would definitely cause a reverse reaction on everybody. So I cracked another fake grin. "I'm totally fine, dude!"

Leo stared at me, in disbelief. "I think you're on crack."

"Yeah, I think so too…" I sighed. "I think I need to go for a walk. I'll be back later."

He nodded, and I headed for the doors, exiting into the dark night. There were several people that I recognized outside, and even that one in particular. I walked towards him.

"The Codster!" I exclaimed, trying to hide the fact I was sort of…depressed.

Cody looked up, and turned to me. "Oh, hey Geoff."

"What are you doing around here?" I asked. "I'm here for that big bash Candice was hosting. Were you invited too?"

"Nope! I just came to get a glimpse of how those cool guys work it? Need some ideas, and stuff."

"Oh, cool man." Then suddenly it hit me. "Say, Cody. Did you, maybe, get a chance to talk with Bridgette yet?"

He tried to smile, nervously. "Er. Sorta."

A sheer disappointment arose in me (Hehe. Got that line from one of my dad's literature books).

Cody must've noticed. "But I will, don't sweat it man." He grinned. "I'm just wondering-but what do you like about Bridgette?"

"Well, let's see. Her eyes are really pretty, and I just love her smile. She's just so passionate about things; her personality's just awesome. And the way she looks at me is just…I just can't get her off my mind, dude. It'd be such a shame to lose her to someone else, you know?"

"Yeah, it would."

* * *

To be continued. **O:  
**

* * *

  
OKAY. So hoped you enjoyed and ya-di-ya-di-ya. XD

NOW ON TO THE COMMENTS ('sides this one).

I know, the story doesn't seem like it's going ANYWHERE at this point. But it will, eventually. And remember I'm just a beginner with my writing, so it might take awhile before my fics are AWESOME, lol.

STHD will be updated ONCE or TWICE a month, depending on my procrasination level. XD And believe me-this is going to be a LONG story!

So yeah, some of these parts hardly make sense-like how was Trent able to skip his school and tell his parents? You'll find out in the upcoming chapters, I promise. :)

If you have questions, and comments, then review. PLEASE. XD


	5. The Unexpected Erupts

It's finally done, OMG! I worked SO HARD on this...though I admit alot of parts were forced, because all I could concentrate on was just getting it done. :(  
SO I MAY edit it some more after I post this, just so it gets exactly to the way I imagined it. sigh Anyways, I hope you all enjoy! bows

**Disclaimer:** I do not own TDI. -- TDI (c) Fresh Animation

* * *

_"Like I said, this is going to be tricky…" I trailed off, mocking him as I forced him to wait for the good part. "It involves two tickets to Vancouver, a handful of excuses, and if that doesn't work; a whole lot of convincing. Are you in?"_

* * *

**STHD Part 5**

by I, the UnspokenArtist

**Owen (Friday, 6:30pm)**

"Relax, dude!" Chris called out from his 'spot' within his private fitness room. He leaned from his leather recliner, and grinned. "Only 50 kilometres to go."

"50 kilometres?" I repeated, worn out from the day's torturous work-out. Honestly, this guy makes us exercise twice the amount a pro-football team does in a year altogether, and believe me, I wouldn't know. It just felt that way. "I've barely done two!"

"Exactly!" The over-payed (I'm serious!) host of the high-rated reality TV show chuckled, and walked over. He pushed the 'off' button, and the gears and whatchamacallits of the rather expensive treadmill machine deactivated, finally, to my very liking. I panted heavily as it stopped, collapsing on the monitor in front.

"Priceless." He muttered villainously as he made his way over to the sitting area of the enormous (No kidding) studio, gesturing me to follow. I took the beanbag seat opposite of him and sunk into it, trying to catch my breath. _Trying_.

"Tea?" Chris Maclean lifted a porcelain imported tea kettle, pinky finger up, and stuck it out towards me. I nodded, and he poured a cup for me and himself. "Alright, now let's get to business. Seeing that none of your fellow campers from TDI season one lives here around PEI with you, and knowing that you've lost contact with everyone of your little friends there (Forgot? Ha! Pathetic, dude!), we've decided to let you in on a little secret."

I spit out my tea. "_Secret_?"

"Yes, Owen. A _secret_. And probably the only one you'll ever hear from me, EVER. But first, how about a little surprise for an appetizer?"

"Oh! Food! Does it have anything to do with brownies?"

Another chuckle. "Kind of." He looked back at the doorway entrance, winked as if a cue, and turned back to me. "He's big, he's bad, he _bakes_ brownies (but I won't guarantee they're completely edible though…), and you're probably despising the fact you're about to see him right now-CHEF!"

A dark, shadowy figure stepped out from his 'hiding place' and smirked, gripping a horrendous-looking large cutting knife in one hand, which gleamed along with the silver tooth that stuck out among his dirt-yellow others. I screamed, since it was only natural when this big creepy guy comes out of nowhere holding a _very_ sharp object.

Chef came closer, slapped high-fives with his partner in crime (or rather, insanity), and took a seat beside me. "That," said Chris, "was twice as bad as DJ's. Which, was pretty sad to begin with. And now, I've got it all on tape." He nudged Chef, who nudged him back, hard, which almost caused him to fall backwards.

"On_tape_?" I repeated. "That's…absurd!"

"Look over there, Owen," suggested Maclean, pointing over to the brick wall to the side. "Tell me, what do you see?"

"A…a…video camera?!? That can't be possible!"

"You see-" Chris stood, then walked over to the same wall. "-Chef and I have all of this footage, right in this camera." He patted the old security machine slightly, which already caused it to break a part, a little. "In about a week, after it is edited and sent to some cheap, but well-viewed TV station, millions of viewers will get to watch the hilarious parodies and possible breakdowns that happen in the lives of the TDI Season 1 campers."

"Does that mean-"

"Yes, Owen. We're watching your friends, too."

"But how? And _why_?" This, was obviously too much to take at once.

Chef answered this time. "Easy. One, you may not know this, heck-no one does, but I'm head chef at each of your cafeterias. How I do it, I'm not telling you or nobody. I wear a mask, but you may notice that your food tastes the similar maybe…?"

I thought for a second. It _did_ seem a little familiar...

He continued. "I put something a little extra in the food I give you guys, let's leave it at that. It tapes your every move, and how? That I don't know. All I know is what those scientist guys told me-not poisonous, but it may have a few side affects…and we have backup cameramen in each province and territory anyway just incase. And, why, you ask? Total Drama Island has gone downhill ever since season one finished. I'm guessing that folks just prefer you over some new crazy twenty-two. Chris and I decided that we are not going to give up are careers over something like that, so we came up with this. The great part is, we're reaching #1 on the ratings."

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing English came out. This had to be a dream. They couldn't seriously be doing this. How cruel could they get? "Esto es absurdo!"

Chris snickered, then motioned to Chef to follow his instructions. "I have absolutely NO IDEA what this guy's trying to say but anywho, cue the curtains, Hatchet."

After the snap of the host's fingers, Chef did as he was told, tugging on an old piece of rope that endorsed the curtains to set to the side, revealing twenty-two 16" inch TVs that were centered on every past camper. Some were in two, or even three screens.

My eyes widened. Alright, so maybe this was a tad bit interesting… "Oh my gosh! _Heather_ and _Lewshana_-in the same school? I'm surprised both aren't dead yet! And Noah! Haven't seen that guy in ages! Izzy? _My_ Izzy! Where is she? Oh, there! Ah, still as nuts as ever!" I went over to screen and hugged it (Yeah…)

The other two nudged eachother again, whispering stuff like 'Toldja it was going to go as planned'.

Maclean grinned. "So, are you cool with the whole stalking-your-friends-deal now? And you promise not to tell a soul?"

"Will it give me a few more sneak peeks at these? They're very amusing."

"Sure, what the heck."

"But wait! Won't the others see this on television, get all pissed about it, and come over here to sue you guys or something?"

Yet another smirk. "You never know." Chris did an evil laugh, then continued. "They can't possibly find us now."

* * *

**Gwen (Saturday, 10am)**

Saturdays are my off days. Or rather, when I just cannot think straight. Like the time I was forced to do homework assignment on one Saturday; the only words I was really able to get down on paper were the ones that had absolutely nothing to do with it. Saturday mornings are the worst, when I sometimes even forget how to walk. Which, unfortunately, was how this particular 10am time-frame began….

"Oof," I muttered silently, almost to myself but actually out loud, when I tripped on my way to the washroom down the hall. I stood, dusting my night clothes slightly, then was alarmed by a strangely-familiar voice that chanted in front of me.

"You should seriously watch where you're going Gwen! You just like ran, I mean, limped, into a wall!"

Too strange. Way too familiar.

I looked up, and was shocked at what I saw. About a metre away was Izzy, who beamed in her lime green nightdress, then chatted away about this time she came in close contact with a raccoon. "Oh my gosh! He was just too cute! But evil, you know? So I didn't give another thought. I ran, then charged into the pitiful little creature and held an afterparty with the bears after! Awesome, huh?"

"Izzy! What are you doing here?"

Like I said, I wasn't completely myself until I thought it over for a few seconds.

"I mean, IZZY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!?!?" I corrected myself, in a much more exaggerating tone if I do say so myself.

"You invited us over, remember! Well, at least Trent. I just came along anyway! I'm all up for a new adventure, yeah!" She paused, her eyes widening. "You…are okay with that, right?"

I shrugged. "It's not like I can do anything about it now anyways…"

"Then great! Now excuse me while I vandalize…I mean-use the bathroom! I need to go bad!" And then she laughed, then took a dash for the washroom and locked it shut.

"But I-" Stopping mid-sentence, I decided that there was no point. _I might as well sort things out and get it over with…_ I took a long deep breath, then headed down the stairs. Down in the kitchen breakfast area, were Trent, and Carson too. Chatting about things. Probably music again. Hopefully music. Please not about _me_.

I slipped behind the kitchen wall, and hid, trying to listen to their conversations without getting distastefully noticed.

"So you mean your 'rents actually bought the whole 'I'm going to stay at New Brunswick for a few weeks so I can look for a job early before the lazy college couch-potato days kick in' excuse? Nice, man!"

"Well, you know me…" Trent chuckled, then continued. "So Carson, what's up with your sister nowadays? She seems a little…"

My cue.

"Um, Carson," I began, stepping out from behind the wall. "Mind if I have a few words with Trent?"

"No problem, Gwen," he replied, winked, and pushed Trent towards me.

Trent stumbled but kept his balance, brushed a small streak or his hair, and spoke. "Yeah?"

"Listen, I'm so sorry."

He looked at me apologetically, as if he felt sorry for me. I felt sorry for me too. Sorry that I sounded stupid.

"I'm sorry for getting all upset about everything. It wasn't your fault Izzy decided to tag along, and it wasn't your fault you let her. You were just being you're normal good-natured self, and I was kind of hoping that you'd…

"Forgive you?"

"Yes."

"Then you're forgiven, is that what you wanted me to say?"

"Right again."

"Good," he said, and smiled. "So how about we do something together later to mark our truce? I was looking through this tourist pamphlet earlier today and discovered there was this supposedly awesome concert playing tonight. Is that cool with you?"

"Yeah," I smirked. "Yeah, lunch doesn't sound bad."

* * *

**Eva (Sunday, 3pm)**

You'd figure something was terrible wrong when you're suddenly tied up from chest to toe to the mall bench and being tested with a lie detector. True enough, this was wrong. Irritating in fact. To the average citizens spending their pointless time at the shopping plaza staring at my pitiful situation, just insane.

"She's definitely gone mental. I mean, honestly, who would talk such kind, clueless foreign students into tying her up with a rope to try to make those two look…bad? Such a darn shame, really."

The two senior ladies shook their heads, and doddered away. I've heard plenty of stuff like that throughout the last few hours I was under 'hostage', and all of them were in Antoniette and Pierre's favor. People honestly interpreted the absolute wrong idea. One, I was banded to my own will, and two, they were trying to make me look bad. Plus, they were asking me these dumb questions with that dumb lie detector, and whoop-dee-do-I failed at every one.

"Avez-vous plus d'un millier de brimades pitoyable enfants?"

"What?"

A beep.

"Avez-vous intimidateur pour le plaisir?"

"What the heck is that supposed to mean??"

Another beep.

"Avez-vous battre les enfants pour vivre?"

"Er, yeah. I mean no! What did that mean?

Yet another beep.

I couldn't stand this. "Alright, that's enough! Untie me now."

"But why?" One spoke. "We were having so much fun with this."

What? "You speak…English?!?!"

Antoniette laughed. "Well of course!_But_, only when we _want to_."

I couldn't believe it. Those twerps! No one, I repeat no one, had the right to fool Eva Sanders, and when they did, they had to pay the price bad. But first, I needed to get out the mess I got myself into. "Which is when?

"Almost never."

* * *

**Trent (Monday, 8am)**

I never really knew what to think, or how to react, when Gwen told me that I had to attend her school for the few weeks I was staying here.

"Listen, you and Izzy have to come with me this morning. If the authorities find out that there're some kids ditching class then it's straight to juvy for you," she told me at breakfast that Monday morning.

"Even if-"

"_Even if_."

So I had to go.

Around 7:45am the three of us piled into the bus that took a stop near the curb at the end of the Robinson Street. Gwen and I near the back, and Izzy, in the seat behind us, right beside this random kid that she started talking to randomly for some reason. "Hi, I'm Izzy!" she recited to everyone, including him. "I'm smart, loyal, and I'm totally cute. Ooh! And I love fish!"

The group of people around gave quickly moved as far away from her as they could.

"I don't blame them," Gwen whispered, laughing a tad bit.

I shrugged. "That's Izzy at her most sane, I guess. By the way, how were you able to sneak Izzy and I into your school anyways? I hope you did think of something. No way do I want to get busted by some old principal guy I don't even know when he finds out two hooligans sneaked into his building."

"Relax. If some guy like Cody liked you a couple years back, then you have to have picked up something from those smarty pants pick-up lines he used to impress you. Even when they had nothing to do with this situation, maybe some of his intelligence rubbed a little on me. Don't worry about it, Trent. I've got it covered."

"Exactly how, may I ask? It's legal, right?"

"I'm no Duncan. Though things may have been a little less complicated if I was. I actually had to hack into the main computer system, and process your names in, with school records and all. Which was almost impossible, trust me. Izzy had plenty of mishaps on hers, like this one time she locked this kid she liked in kindergarten in her closet for three days. All she fed him were fishcakes, which, he was apparently allergic too. Almost got suspended, but they decided it was much safer to keep her _in school_. I had to actually delete…"

She paused for a second. "…most of the information shown on her records. The information's supposed to be classified, so I promise-I'll change it back when you guys get back to Alberta. Happy?"

I gave her a thin smile. "Almost."

"Well, here's our stop. That's our school over there, let's go."

"Cool."

The bus entrance doors slid to the side, and the giant crowd piled out, Izzy, Gwen, and me pushing our way through.

"That was awesome! I love bus rides!" commented Izzy, throwing her hands up to the air.

"Er," replied Gwen. "Don't get used to it."

"Look," I interrupted, pointing to a group of girls that caught my eye. "Are they, looking at us?"

Izzy immediately twirled around to this. "Oh my gosh! They are! And they're heading this way! Quick, act normal!"

Gwen also turned back, then turned away, eyes slightly tensed. "Ignore them. It's no one important."

The clique of five strutted toward us, their supposed leader flipping a long wave of her dirty blonde hair.

"Hey," she greeted, an air of mystique in her voice. "I'm Alexis. And I think you're cute."

"Uh, thanks." I gave Gwen a sidelong look, and she instantly handed me a disapproving stare. "I have to go now, but er, thanks. Thanks for the whole introduction and all."

"Alright," she answered. "But I'll be back. Ta-ta! For now."

And she waved with her fingers, giggled, and scurried back to her four other friends.

"Who was that, Gwen?" I asked unsurely as they were out of ears' reach.

"I thought it was obvious enough. Alexis. Popular, self-centered snob. Otherwise known as, the reason I needed you here."

* * *

**Courtney (Monday, 11:45am)**

"Wonderful, darling! A perfect example of how it's supposed to get done in the theatre, if I do say so myself." Mrs. Boscarino, the drama teacher, clasped her hands together in delight, and gestured for me to lead off the stage, and head back to my seat. "Bravo!"

I bowed a courtesy, then went over to the davenport between my two friends, which, they had saved for me just earlier.

"You were great," gushed Margaret, a dreamy look twinkling in her eyes. Allison nodded, and agreed. "You were."

"Oh," I blushed, placing the tips of my fingers to my heart. "Thank you…but I don't think…well, maybe…I think I did a pretty wicked job myself actually."

They stared at me, somewhat shocked. "_Wicked_?"

"I think it means, something, er, well done, or…I don't know. Is there anything wrong with that though?"

"Nothing, really," answered Allison in a small voice. "It's just that…it isn't normal for you to talk _slang_."

"Don't be ridiculous, you two. I would, uh, never mind. Drop it, okay?"

"Yes, maam."

Boscarino interrupted the rest of our unusual conversation. Honestly, most of ours usually focus on that latest history assignment or something, and not about my choice of words. So anyway, I was glad when she decided to choose this moment to continue, though maybe, I shouldn't have been.

"Alright, who is next?" she asked the audience, while at the same time, glancing at the try-out list she had positioned on a small wooden clipboard. "Hmm, I guess that is all, students. We have reached the end of the list. Are there possibly any last-minute auditions, maybe?"

"I'll go."

Everybody turned, to face a certain green-moehawk haired rebel who wasn't exactly what you'd call welcome to the theatre. What does he think he's doing? Why must he ruin everything that had to do with _me_?

"Er, very well then." Boscarino adjusted her glasses, then blinked a couple of times. "Would you like a script?"

"I think I can do without it." Duncan made his way over to the stage, faced the crowd, and winked. At _me_.

I leaned further back in my seat, and crossed my arms. "I absolutely can't stand him. He's totally obnoxious. And what exactly does he think he's doing without a script?"

"Quiet, Courtney. He's starting."

"And?"

"He's really good."

I turned to the stage, where Duncan recited his lines with passion, dignity, and ease.

This is the part where I literally fell out of my seat.

To my horror, Duncan was good. I never knew he could pull off such a role, but in the end, I couldn't believe my eyes. Or my ears.

"OMG!" swooned Margaret, using an oh-so dramatic tone in her voice. "He was just, amazing."

"Is he into punk girls? He's so…different. I think I'm totally going punk tomorrow!"

More fan girls (considered 'fan girls' only since five minutes ago) joined into the conversation, and for the next half hour, the only topics that went around school had to do with Duncan.

"Maybe he's a slight bit not-my-type, but he's just soooo talented!"

"Cute, too. Don't you just love his eyes?"

"Ha! You guys are pathetic. Duncan is mine; one day, we're going to get married you know."

What had made things so much more worse was the fact that Boscarino had become fond of him as well.

"He was good. Fantastic, to put it lightly. I think we should put him on as Tony, what do you think?" I overheard her talking to the other teachers and those involved with the production that day. _Tony_? In the West Side Story, _Tony_ was the _lead_.

"Excuse me," I stepped in, hoping to change their almost made-up minds. "I disagree with your choice for Tony, maam. I mean, seriously, won't that mohawk of his create some sort of distraction or confuse some, Mrs. Boscarino?"

"Actually," she replied. "We've decided that, that hairdo of his may add more appeal to the show, or even convince some other target audiences to see opening night."

"But-" I added, intently. "His standards certainly don't fit the role. He's new to this kind of business. How about Frankie, he did well."

"Well I'll be, Duncan told us that he was experienced with this sort of thing. He even has a few noble mentions from the world of acting, in fact."

"_What_?"

"You seem surprised, Miss Evans. You _haven't_ heard?"

She continued. "Duncan's own father was a remarkable broadway actor. And he also played one of the main characters of an old police sitcom years ago."

"But you don't understand, maam. Duncan's been known for breaking a few rules himself."

Boscarino raised an eyebrow. "You're not jealous are you, Courtney?"

"Of course not."

"But you do seem a little difficult, eh? I'll just let you know, that we do not want difficult actors in our high-standard production, understand?"

I knew where she was getting at. "Yes, maam."

* * *

**Noah (Monday, 12pm)**

"So, how am I doing at the pre-polls this year so far?"

Zack, one of my loyal friends, or rather accomplices, looked up from the stats on a spreadsheet as well as a quick bar graph and turned to me. "You're ahead of everyone else by almost three hundred, boss."

"Perfect."

"Yes, boss. You'll do great this year."

"Don't be mental, Zack. I already knew that, I do every year. Nothing too new there. Except now it matters the most, now that I'm a senior."

"Yeah, you do have a fair chance."

I almost choked on his words. _Fair chance_?_Just,_ a fair chance? "Excuse me?"

"Er, yeah boss. There's this supposed hotshot at winning school president switching schools this year (he's coming tomorrow in fact)…and…"

"_And_? Come on, he can't have better skills than mine."

"Actually, I've heard quite a lot about him. For one thing, girls follow him like a _really_ attractive magnet."

"What?"

"I don't know, my sources tell me that he's supposedly irresistible, and his looks seem to talk for itself, but there was one more thing-"

This was impossible. "He doesn't talk."

"That was it! How'd you ever know?"

Many thoughts cluttered my mind and when I noticed, I pushed them to side to make way for gears, numerals, and a common sense once again. "Lucky guess."

* * *

**Cody (Monday, 4:30pm)**

It was drizzling slightly when I hid disguised in a cap and sunglasses by the sidelines waiting for Geoff to finish his football practice. Poor guy was failing passes and missing quite a few good opportunities.

Geoff sprinted across the field, dazed off for a second, and was smacked right in the face by the football that slipped out of a teammate's hands. He fell to the grass, letting about a hundred-dozen gasps escape from the crowd, who, at this point, had shunned their eyes.

The cheerleading squad immediately ran to his side (Jealous? Me? No way! Er. A bit, yeah), followed by the coach and the rest of the team. "Oh my gosh, are you okay? You MUST be okay!" chanted the dressed-in-green cheerleaders, who I had to admit, looked pretty darn fine today. They gushed, and carried him over to the benches, where they offered him something to drink and something to put on his bruises, while the coach asked him about his unusual activity.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No."

"Have you lost interest in football, son?"

"No way, sir."

"Are you on drugs?"

"You've got to be joking, dude."

Coach scratched his head. "Then are you…suffering from a terrible loss, perhaps?" Geoff flinched, and faked a smile. "It's nothing, Coach. I'll be fine." He stood, then fell to his knees, groaning as the pain filled his body for the second time.

"Quick! Call 1-2-3!" shrieked one of the cheerleaders. A dumb blonde, who seemed like a duplicate of Lindsey.

Everyone around stared, some snorting at her remark. Coach instantly shook it off, and turned back to the injured player. "Take the rest of today off. We'll want you healthy for the playoffs in a few months, wouldn't we? Heck, you're our star."

"Thanks, Coach. I'll try."

A black-haired muscle-man with the number '3' looked at him intently. "Can you walk?"

"Sure." He stood with difficulty, but was able to limp his way over to the men's changerooms. "I'll survive."

I waited for him outside. Then finally he came out, his leg just a tad bit better.

"Cody?"

"How'd you know it was me? Thought my disguise was pretty…disguising."

"I read your name tag, man."

Oh yeah, I work at the Burger Barn. _'Our burgers are fresh from cow!'_

"Okay, listen. I've been thinking of a plan to hook you up with your surfer chick but I have to admit, it isn't going to be simple…"

"Do tell, man."

"Like I said, this is going to be tricky…" I trailed off, mocking him as I forced him to wait for the good part. "It involves two tickets to Vancouver, a handful of excuses, and if that doesn't work; a whole lot of convincing. Are you in?"

Geoff thought for a moment, then when it finally got to him, he grinned. "I am _SO_ in."

* * *

**Ezekiel (Tuesday, 9am)**

Highschool, was the ultimate dream. I don't want to admit actually losing my cool here, but I was dazzled. Cloud Nine type of dazzled. So dazzled I could almost cry.

Classes were okay, people were awesome, and the food seemed so deja-vu-ish I loved it! Strangely enough, a lot of peeps said it, well, sucked. Not just the food…but everything in general. But why? Highschool was the real deal.

I even got to meet an old friend during English class, who seemed a little, you-know.

"Can you like, pass me the pencil under you, Ezekiel?" asked the guy behind me.

I spun around, then turned dead-shocked at the familiar face. "OH MY GOD HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!?!"

"Er, yeah. The teacher introduced you just five minutes ago…GOSH!"

"OH MY GOD YOU'RE HAROLD!"

Everyone turned to the two of us.

"Shhh…not so loud."

The scary-teacher lady came over to us and glared. "Detention. Detention for the both of you."

"Thanks a lot."

"Why, man? I thought detention was supposed to be where all the cool guys went."

Harold peeked a little back, and turned back around right away. "Yeah, all the cool creepy punk guys. Listen, if you mess with them, you're like, dead."

"But isn't that a little…harsh? I mean, we can tell on them right?"

He slapped his forehead. Hard. "Dude, we're not in kindergarten anymore, we're in highschool. Nothing is going to be easy, this is the _real deal_.

I was starting to understand a little. _'Yeah, Ezekiel. The real deal.'_

* * *

**Heather (Tuesday, 10:30am)**

The class gaped intently at Mr. Lewis Grey, the man cursed to be our Spec. ED teacher, as we waited for him to blurt out that supposedly 'big' announcement he promised. Honestly, couldn't he just hurry up?

Twenty minutes passed of more intense glaring, staring, yawning, and passing out as the mid-aged man up front glanced for about the hundredth time at the clock, then at us, for about the thousandth.

"Hurry up already," I snarled, obviously irritated with the current scenario. Hello? Right now, we were all stranded inside a four-wall classroom; absolutely no talking, absolutely no snacking, and absolutely nothing to do. This guy was stalling, but for _what_?

At the sudden break of silence, almost everyone awoke from their captivating hypnotization, with a mere exception of a few kids who really did pass out due to the lack of turbulence. I rolled my eyes. "Well, we're not just going to sit here for the rest of the period you know."

Lewis adjusted his glasses, and sneered. "You might as well, since it isn't very likely that you are going to like what I am about to share with you next. The brief silence was just to add to the moment."

"We are so sure," I muttered out loud; crossed-arms, legs crossed, unconvinced expression-only the perfect sarcastic manner. "Now, what exactly was that thing you swore you'd tell us so kindly about? You aren't-no; planning on taking us all under hostage without food, water, and television, are you?"

Grey flinched slightly. "Thanks for the idea. I'll consider some of it next time. Now, about that oh-so important little announcement I promised I would notify all you with; I have noticed that the special project I've assigned just isn't enough and doesn't exactly emphasize the whole motive that we were planning to accomplish. So in honor of this fact, I have decided to add a little twist: You and your partner must now get an involved in a twosome cooperative activity of your choice. The most cooperative pair shall win two sets of $50 worth of gift certificates for Tim Horton's!

The students cheered, until, well, Lewis also brought up the fact that anyone who failed this task would be receiving an automatic '0'.

"That's so unfair."

"Now, students. Pick an activity for your pair from this list, and notify me with your choices."

"Volleyball."

"Girl, you have to be kidding me," Lewshana remarked as she clutched her books to her chest as we walked down the hall together. Because we were forced to, as I have said before.

"Why? Do you have some problem with that, or is it just the fact that you don't do sports?"

"_Excuse me_, but do you not recall the day I _owned_ the other team in dodgebrawl, sister?"

"I take that you agree then," I smirked, slamming my books into my locker. "Practise at five at the gym, you better be there."

"Fine."

"You do now how to the rules go, right? You serve the ball, you volley the ball, you bump the ball, you drop the ball-that's a point for the opposite team. It's a sport, if you forgot. A sport. Can you play?"

She gave me an impulsive look, and placed her hands to her hips. "Chyeah, I can play."

* * *

**Bridgette (Tuesday, 4pm)**

They say that trouble is something easier to get into, then to get out of. At this point, I've realized it was completely true. Matt comes home with me almost everyday after school, and is usually the one who listens to the recorded phone messages first, while I'm whipping up a snack or something. During a few occurances they were from Cody, hinting and asking if I was still into you-know-who, and I'd totally freak and turn the messages off immediately.

That day the message went something like this:

_'Hey, Bridgette! It's Cody. AGAIN! Hehe, yeah-I was just wondering why you STILL haven't replied to all those messages I left over the past week. What gives? I honestly thought that you would soon,'coz, you know, I know you. I bet you're still totally hooked on Geoff, and you're just too scared to call back because you're afraid he might still not still feel the same way! But heck yeah he still-'_

I pressed 'delete' on the receiver, and turned, to see Matt giving me a puzzled, demanding look. "Is there something I don't know?"

"Nothing! It probably was just one of those telemarketers again! You know them-they never give up!" I chuckled, sounding so fake it was that obvious. To myself, Matt, and the whole world now that I thought of it. _Plastic_. Absolutely _plastic_.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I mean no! Er, of course! I'm as alright as ever!"

"Are you sure?" I'm surprised he still hadn't brought up one of those 'You're on crack' statements.

I sighed. "Yes."

"Okay then." He smiled, then looked over at the direction of the kitchen. "Snacks ready?"

The doorbell rang, causing me to turn back, and decide to answer it. "Help yourself, I'll get that."

So I made my way over to the front entrance, and without peeking through the porthole, I swung open the door, gasping at the two people who stood on my doorstep.

Like I said, trouble is easier to get into then to get out of. My only wish was that trouble got out before more trouble came.

Fortunately they weren't one of those guys seen on 'America's Most Wanted'. They weren't those irritating realtors who begged us occasionally to sell our house before they officially went out of business either. Instead, they were two men in suits, with fake mustaches and suitcases; one had that 'sweet talk' thing going on, and the other, wore a cowboy hat.

Somebody pinch me.

* * *

To be continued. :O

* * *

Hehe. Tried to organize it a little bit. XD

Hope you enjoyed it, and I promise next I will update MUCH SOONER. Reviews are loved! (HINTHINT)


	6. Excuse me?

WooT! Finished-and this one's pretty good. Some parts are off-character, sorry, but, that's impossible at some of them. So I tried my best, haha. xD

Sorry for some errors and etc, I'm a procrastinator, you know that. ;3

**Disclaimer:** TDI is owned by Fresh Animation.

* * *

**PART 6 o 3o**

* * *

_"I'll slowly open this door," I grabbed hold of the doorknob and squeezed it tightly. "And you; you grab the mop over there." _

"The mop?"

"I said, grab the mop. We're going to need some self defense, you know."

* * *

**Cody (Tuesday, 4:15pm)**

"Oh my god!" Bridgette froze at the doorway, and just, well, stared. Then came the dreaded awkward silence, and she started twitching for some odd reason. It had to be the moustaches.

Deciding to play along, I cleared my throat and spoke in a foreign british accent. "Hello maam, the old chap and I over here have been dilly-dallying through this quaint town of yours when we suddenly realized that we were without a place to say for the long stretch and-" "Stop it, I-" Her stare was cold and unsure.

And just for the heck of it, I played 'along' just a bit more… "We thought that since you seem like a fairly sensible and kind young-"

She continued. "I-I know it's you. And I-" Her gaze hovered over to Geoff, and she breathed a long sigh. "We _really_ need to talk."

"That's exactly what I was thinking! The _three_ of us, and some ice tea and beef jerky-_perfect_." And with that, I marched a step inside, only to be irritatingly blocked out by Bridgette who automatically covered the entrance with her arms pushed to the frame.

"You cannot just barge in here, you know! I have to, um, _settle_ a few things first." The she dashed inside, locked the door, and just left us there. To starve, to die, to-

Geoff and I shrugged and fixed our eyes back to the door, relying on that small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, Bridgette wouldn't leave us out to starve, to die, to-

Then the door swung open, and Bridgette brushed a lock of light blonde hair to the side as she panted and turned to us. "Er, come in."

Our prayers were answered. Amen.

* * *

**Geoff (Tuesday, 4:30pm)**

Didn't know how the Codmeister was able to succeed with it, but somehow, he was able to accomplish our main goal: Get to Bridgette. Then what? Not sure; I'd ask Cody since he seems remember these little details more than I do, but just to my luck, he was in the shower. Not sure who's though.

Oh yeah. And that's when Bridgette said, like, the first thing during those two hours I was examining her well-stocked fridge.

"Hey, Geoff, can you pass the ketchup beside you, please. Cody likes some on his."

I gave her a sidelong glance, stared into blank space for a little bit, then grabbed the red bottle by the counter. "Oh, right. Here."

She snatched it from my hand, and began to squirt the contents insanely onto the beef jerky, and uh, missing it by a mile.

"Need…help?"

Bridgette paused, and turned to me. "It's alright…I'm good….I mean, I can totally-"

"Um…_about that_." I gestured to the mess she created, and at the new direction she just, stared.

"Oh, right." She quickly grabbed a paper towel and brushed it against the countertop frantically.

"Er. Bridge, I…we…"

"WHAT'S THIS IDIOT MOUSTACHE MAN DOING IN MY BATHTUB?!?!"

"Bridgette! Are you okay! Must I call the paramedics?!?!"

Then I noticed something seemed a little wrong: Bridgette didn't say that. It was a man's voice. And it couldn't be Cody's.

"Oh my gosh!" exclaimed Bridgette, who, at this point, decided to dash off and run upstairs.

"Wait!" I called after her, then followed, tripping a few steps up. Voices were heard from one of the rooms, and after passing two doorways, I was suddenly in the same room as three other people.

One, Bridgette, whose eyes were widened at the current scene.

Two, Cody. He was taking a bubble bath. In someone else's bathtub.

Lastly-three, some guy I didn't know of. He didn't look too threatening, except for the fact he was holding a golf club, and he was heading towards Cody. Obviously for crossing the line and invading his territory.

"Dad!" Bridgette sped towards the somewhat stranger, and restrained him by holding his arm back. He put the club down and glanced at his supposed daughter. "Oh, hey. How was school today, Bridgette?"

"It was alright, Dad," and then she quickly looked both ways at me and Cody (who didn't seem awakened by the noise or threat at all), and sighed, "and these are, my _friends_."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Your _friends_?"

"Uh, sure. They were on that reality TV show with me, remember? So, okay: One or two of them might be diseased with amnesia, but I'm sure they'll be fine. They were…strolling down our streets randomly when-"

Bridge gave a quick moment to think. "-they were suddenly beat up by a bunch of thugs, and now-"

Didn't like the sound of that.

"-they're sorta injured, and may need a place to stay for the next couple of days," she put an emphasis on 'couple'. "Er, _this_ guy-" She pointed to Cody. "-was hit pretty bad and lost a couple of brain weight and manners in the process, yeah."

Wow. She was almost able to make it sound believable. Impressive. Nice one, Bridge.

Bridgette's dad rubbed the back of his head, and shrugged. "I don't know…but-I do need a couple extra hands at the garage these next few days. If they load a couple of muscle, then maybe they could-"

"Oh, thanks Dad. _They'd_ really appreciate it."

He smiled, then exited the room.

"So, you _do_ want us to stay."

She looked at me in dismay, and answered, "Me? No way. Dad's been working really hard and he may need the help."

"That can't be the only reason, you know."

"Oh well. Just drop it, alright?"

"Sure, Cody and I won't try to cause you guys anymore trouble, we promise."

Bridgette smiled. "You better."

Then suddenly Mr. Roberts re-entered the room, and repeated his demand. "BUT I WAS SERIOUS! GET THAT MOUSTACHE KID OUT OF MY BATHTUB NOW!"

* * *

**Lewshana (Tuesday, 5:30pm)**

Slide left. Step back. Serve this, bump that. Then volley.

By the time, just half an hour whizzed by, I was already pretty much pooped out. With Heather, this wasn't just some practice or some game; it was competition. To her, _everything_ was.

"Oh, c'mon Lewshana!" Her annoying little voice exploded in my ear for the gazillionth time that day. "Even I thought you were better than that!" She smirked from the other side of the net, fists placed to her hips.

"Shut up, girl!" I panted heavily before gaining balance and being able to actually stand myself on the slippery gym floor. The gym floor that I and no one weren't even allowed to be on at this time.

"What was that? 'I'm tired already?' Hello-it's only been thirty mere minutes. If you can't stand this, how exactly will you put up with that mini-tournament I signed the both of us up for?"

The nerve of that queen bee. "_What_?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she shrugged, as she picked up the orange volleyball that rolled off to her side of the gym. "I asked Lewis, and he said we'd get extra credit if we actually won at a contest or something. He said it'd prove our co-operating abilities."

"But…" I was stunned with her words. "You never even bothered to ask, hmm? Who made you in charge of everything, sister?"

"You already know my leadership skills are rather impressive," Heather examined her nails. "Besides, _you_ never bothered to do anything about it before, hmm?"

She served the ball. I bumped it back. "Well, I'll be. You're even worse than last year!"

"And your comebacks aren't as great as last year, either. Bet you can't get this one."

Heather volleyed it far back to the end of my side of the court, and 'coz of my anger, I was able to pass it back.

"HA! And you said _I_ couldn't get that!"

At this point, I would've thought she would've came up with another slur, or at least hit the ball back, but she didn't. Her face went pale white, and she muttered silent words. "I hear someone. _No one_ else is supposed to be here, Lewshana."

* * *

**Heather (Tuesday, 5:45pm)**

"It's coming from over there," I whispered, and we both decided to creep over to the janitor's closet (which was just outside the gym), where, we had heard unwelcomed noises from. Shuffling noises.

Someone was definitely in there.

"I'll slowly open this door," I grabbed hold of the doorknob and squeezed it tightly. "And you; you grab the mop over _there_."

"The mop?"

"_I said_, grab the mop. We're going to need some self defense, you know."

* * *

**Lindsey (Tuesday, 6pm)**

If there was one thing I actually wanted to find the answer to today, it'd be why exactly I had a group of thugs chasing after me while I was frantically trying to find my way home. I mean, it was so random-you know; just walking out campus then these random guys just come up to me and try to flirt a bit before reaching for my purse. If only they knew that I mastered karate when I six; even IF I re-colored my black-belt pink.

Well, naturally, I ran back to the nearest place possible: The water fountain; then the next nearest: The school. So I headed quickly inside, and immediately locked myself in the janitor's closet in fear of getting captured and breaking a nail.

Of course, I really should've remembered that the closet door could only be unlocked from the outside. Maybe I should've thought of that awhile ago instead of two hours later, but hello-it isn't easy thinking straight under stress. And this, was an emergency, so I followed my very first instinct-lock myself in a closet. My second instinct, would be 'to keep the door slightly open so I wouldn't be stuck in there for eternity', and my third, would be 'to makes sure Mr. Janitor Guy was around to save my butt after the coast was clear'. Oh well, all I could do for now was to sit in this very closet, in this very spot, and hope someone would come. Like I have for the last few hours.

Suddenly, this random voice goes and yells out, "Who's in there?" and forces the door open. I quickly jab my eyes shut as someone starts to charge at me with a mop. Once I re-opened my eyes, I was shocked to see two things: One, I could've sworn I painted my nails Lovely Lavender and not Glowing Green; and two, there was, this person, in front of me, holding, a mop. Which, could only mean that it was Mr. Janitor Guy, and that maybe my third instinct came around after all.

And I was like, SO relieved when I realized this! "Omigosh, thank you, Mr. Janitor Guy, thank you! Thank you so much for saving my life! I-"

Mr. Janitor Guy stepped out of the shadows, and gaped at me. "_Lindsey_?"

And then I discovered the truth, and nearly toppled everything off the nearby shelf over. "_Lewshana_?!?!"

"Wait, _Lindsey_?" Heather came into view as well, and stared in dismay. "_What_ are you doing in this closet?"

"Er, hiding."

"From _what_?"

"Umm, well you see; I was trying to find my way home when I was chased by these creepy criminal dudes. So I ran over here, since I didn't know wherelse to hide, and I'm not sure if they're still here or not or-"

"Yep, we're still here." This was a new voice.

Next thing I knew, Lewshana and Heather were shoved quickly into the already clamped closet and the door was slammed shut. I couldn't forget what he said right before:

"Sorry, babe. Looks like you guys will be sticking around here for a little longer. No worries though, we'll see eachother again soon. _Very_ soon."

No, it wasn't those actual words that freaked me out and got me screaming multiple times during the rest of the day, but the fact that-

I knew that voice.

* * *

**Ezekiel (Wednesday, 11am)**

I couldn't say that Harold and I were exactly friends. We had most of our classes together, so we'd sit next to eachother. After each period we'd walk to our lockers side by side, and meet eachother at our new class, and at lunch, we'd eat at the same table. But we never, like, talked. Ever. Except when Harold asked for a pencil. That was the only exception.

"Move it, you creep." The local arrogant football star pushed through the crowd, shoving me into that, uh, locker in the process. I rubbed my head, and surprisingly, Harold spoke to me this time.

Three words. "Are you alright?"

"I guess."

Then he adjusted his glasses, and whispered another two. "Follow me."

I just nodded, and followed him to behind the school, where he stopped behind a crowd of people slumped beside the green dumpster. Some almost dead, some intense, some strange, and some familiar. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Don't worry man, they're harmless. I think."

One of the people that looked that he hadn't slept in days spotted Harold and I and came towards us, and stared for a long time. "Welcome back, my brother."

Is it me, or did that sound a teeny-bit awkward?

Harold just nodded, and bowed before him. Then he re-stood and then they started to randomly do this secret random handshake. "It is an honor to return, my brother….GOSH!"

"I, uh, I'm kinda missing something here, yeah." I stepped in, nervously because I was afraid if I was violating their ancient code or something.

The leader-person turned, and examined me(?), before scurrying back to his group for a bit. After they reached a decision, and examined me(?) for a second time. Then they all came towards me (Harold included), and nodded their heads for some reason in approval. "Welcome, Ezekiel. You are now part of 'The Rejects'."

"Excuse me?"

Another one of them cleared his throat and spoke. "The Rejects, are a group of people who seem like outcasts compared to those shallow guys. But we're better off that way. We stand up for what we believe in, and dare to be different. Oh, and we address eachother as brothers. And yeah, that's pretty much it. We're simple-like to keep things as short as possible."

"Throw in a couple of nachos, and I am IN!" Hey, I think I was getting a little used to teenspeak.

Harold smiled for the first time I'd seen him in a very long time. "I'll have you know that we guys, are nacho-eating experts."

* * *

**Courtney (Wednesday, 12:20pm)**

"I absolutely cannot stand him." I slapped my fist to the table, causing it to swing partly crooked to the left, leaving me, with what my partner for the job Sophie called, a 'table that we could not work with'.

"This is the seventh table today, Courtney. You can't keep on disfiguring our work areas, Boscarino might kick you out of the crew."

I stood, giving a long sigh in the process. "Whatever. I might as well just quit anyway, since I, well, hate this. It's truly unacceptable, I should be the one there on stage."

"You are on stage, only you're, behind the curtains. Behind the scenes; backstage-does that fit your fancy?"

"Not quite."

To my very luck, Duncan, who by _luck_, got the lead as Tony, chose this already pretty intimidating moment, to enter in.

"Hey princess. How are you enjoying your backstage crew job so far?" He snickered, then covered his mouth to prevent the outburst of rude laughter.

"Excuse me? You say it like it's a bad thing. I'm enjoying every second of it, thank you very much. I mean, who wouldn't rather be sewing props and painting sets rather than performing in the actual production? I sure would."

He almost choked on my words. Sadly, not enough in my opinion. "Right."

"So, how exactly are things going over there? Hey, I hear Tony dies in the end?"

"Yeah, but when he does, his chick goes to avenge him. You know, shooting my killer."

"What, genius? Hello! She didn't, she gave up. And that caused a happy ending for everyone. Except for your character, since technically, he died. Glad you got Tony?"

"Hey, the gal who plays Maria is hot."

Shallow, much? "Is that the only reason you wanted to get the part?"

"That, and more." He smirked, and winked. AGAIN. "See you around, princess."

"Don't count on it."

* * *

**Noah (Wednesday, 1pm)**

"So, where's my competition?"

Kevin, my fairly loyal accomplice, brushed sweat off his forehead and pointed to the nearby crowd. "He…he…just arrived today, boss. And…and…let's just say he's already quite the favorite."

"Hmm, fitting. It's only been ten minutes since he's arrived."

Kevin gaped at me. "Uh…gee, boss, looks like you're going to have a run for your money this year, huh boss?"

"Puh-lease, Kevin. Justin doesn't know a thing about real politics. All he has going for him is his-" I stopped mid-sentence and gazed a few metres over. "Let's see if he's as gorgeous as last year."

Ten feet away, just about every girl at school was all over Justin. Who just stood there. Smiling.

"You're soooo fantastic, Justin!" One of the girls looked over at another, and squealed. "I just adore a guy who doesn't talk! Makes him way mysterious, no? He totally has my vote for this year's election!"

There were two teenage-girls that stood on either side of him, grasping onto a muscular arm each. They dressed in modern business suits and claimed to be the only ones who truly understood Justin, as of five minutes ago. "Justin says thanks," one answered. "You can tell by the look in his eyes. Speaking of which, he has amazing eyes, don't you think?"

The crowd of ladies swooned.

"Enough of this!" I cut in, stepping into the center of the crowd. "Justin isn't all that great. What happened to those times when chicks digged smart, successful guys?"

One of the 'Justin translators' glared at me. "But Justin IS successful! He even won this year's season of Canada's Next Top Male Model."

"There is no such thing as CNTMM, dufus."

"But if there was, he would've totally won!" The other spoke. "Anyhow, I don't see how you're either smart or successful, so we don't exactly see your point." "E-excuse me?" I muttered, then slowly went eye-to-eye with my mortal enemy from now on, Justin. "You're on."

Justin just smiled.

"Ugh! I won't be able to stand another moment with these shallow bystanders!" I turned over to Kevin, and then went to give on last glare at 'him'. "Come on, we need to think of a plan."

I could here more gushing as I dragged Kevin down the hall.

"Oh, Justin! How could you ever possibly be that stunning? I mean look at you-"

Disgusting.

* * *

**Beth (Wednesday, 2:15pm)**

I was sitting at one of the desks back-row at one of my extra-curriculum classes. The teacher up front had taken his last sip of coffee when the sudden bright idea came to him to install the school's only coffee machine in his own classroom instead, At this point, I am trying to figure out the perfect concluding lines for my current essay that I almost didn't notice her and the crew strut inside and grab the seats around me. _Almost._

"We decided we may require your services after all, Beth," The pretty and popular billionare's daughter insisted. She was talking to me. She never talked to me.

"R-really?" I stuttered, then picked up my act because there's nothing more embarrassing then acting stupid in front of the most popular girls in school. "I guess word spread that I can make awesome things out of paper and glue then, huh?"

"Uh, yeah. But there was, something else…" she trailed off, then smirked. "I heard you know Trent Barbosa off some reality TV show."

"Yes, yes I do. We were even on the same team-"

One of the other girls piped in. "TDI! I loved that show! ESPECIALLY Justin…." She paused. "I'm surprised you haven't seen it, Alexis."

"I really only watch the fashion channel," she snapped, then turned back to me and smiled. "So Beth, what do you say? Will you mind working for m for just a little bit? I won't tell you what I had in mind just yet, and things can get a little dirty, but I know this is an opportunity you just cannot refuse. Am I right?"

I beamed. "Absolutely. I won't let you down, Alexis!"

A sly smile curved on her lips. "_Good_."

* * *

**Harold (Thursday, 1am)**

We gathered late at night by the usual school dumpster hang-out, sitting in a circle on the gravel. A large back-our seventh already-of rib barbecue-flavored chips was being passed around, and us guys munched away happily as we kept in mind we still had , like, plenty more to go. Except for Ezekiel, who had been crowned a new member in the midnight ceremony earlier, and who was till pretty confused about the whole thing.

"So, wait-" Ezekiel seemed worried for some odd reason. "-we consider ourselves _jedi_? With lightsabers and baggy suits and stuff?"

Our leader, or sometimes known as the 'head of the council', Anthony, stuffed three large chips into his mouth. "Well, we mean; we REFER to ourselves as jedi. We're all brave, determined, and we all have matching lightsaber keychains."

Ezekiel flinched. "I still don't get it."

"Neither do we. The keychains just sounded cool."

We were now on our eighth bag.

"But you're still, like, considered our padawan," I said to Zeke. "And we, are your masters."

"So, I'm still not, completely like one of you guys yet?"

"Nope! You still have to prove yourself worthy."

"_Worthy_?"

"Yes, worthy. We will discuss your training-"

"_Training_?"

"Yes, training. We will discuss that tomorrow-"

"_Tomorrow_?"

"Please shut up, young padawan."

* * *

Back home, it was already past one. The TV remote was in my hand, and the leftover bag of chips in my other. I could already feel my eyes sagging close, but for some reason, I couldn't fall asleep…

I flipped about a dozen more channels until something caught my eye.  
Chris Maclean. On _TV_.

That last bit pretty much freaked me out, since, I thought we'd thrown him into a lake and he like, died. I screamed a couple more times before deciding to shut myself up so I could understand clearly what was happening.

_"Now we're back, with 'Where are the Loser's Now?'; AKA, the huge insight to the totally dramatic lives of the losers of last year, which I sneakily got on tape when they weren't looking! Anyhow, I'm currently here, at local billionare Lindsey's mansion, which I secretly disguised as a cheap hair salon she'd totally miss it by a mile! So, right now, Chef, Owen, and I are chilling by her sixty-foot wide pool and sipping her lemonade." A familiar $100 000-dollarionare and a familiar cooky big-man waved. "Of course, we had to dress like her rich friends to get in here-" he paused. "-which I admit was not easy."_

I stared frozen into the screen, and pressed the off switch and kept staring. Chris Maclean was out for revenge.

Okay, so I'd forget this ever happened. I'd forget about all of it, so I wouldn't be kept up all night. Which, ended up happening.

* * *

To be Continued...

* * *

...I have to admit, this chapter was alot easier to write. o.O 

I dunno why, but I think I'm slowly getting used to writing, haha. So expect faster updates, especially since March break is quickly approaching. 3

Haha, yes I know. I have said that before, but I PROMISE you all this time. Yes, I may be lying, but bare with me still. :

BTW, the episode of 'Where Are the Losers Now?' that Harold was watching was a yesterday rerun.

**EBIL QUESTIONS YOU MUST ASK YOURSELF:**

Will Geoff and Cody find out about you-know-who?!?!?

Who locked the epic trio in the closet? Could it be... ?

What is up with those Star Wars collectible keychains!?!?!

Will Courtney ever learn to put up with Duncan's newfound popularity?

Will Noah get even a vote in this year's election?

Did you guess that Beth goes to the same school as you-know-who, you-know-who, and you-know-who?

OMG CHRIS IS EVIL!?!?! (Not a question, but maybe you're thinking this anyway xP)

**-End of random questions-**

ALSO: I MAY be editing past STHD chapters to my new, improved writing style. So be out on the watch for that

Thank you, fellow friends; and comment. :


	7. Losing my Mind

- sigh - I'm totally overwhelmed right now. I'm currently debating whether to continue with this or not; since it's kind of...taking over. I want to do other things and write other stories, but this is sort of holding me back. Not sure. I might cancel this or might not, still thinking. ANYWAY. Enjoy this one! It's ALOT shorter, probably less than half the size of the last one, but it just goes to show how lazy I'm being...grr...so yeah, not my best but I...felt the need to post something...hehe.

OH WELL. xD

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Total Drama Island.

* * *

**Heather (Thursday, 4am) **

"Got any food left?"

Lewshana dug into her right pocket and dug out three eaten candy bar wrappers and stared at me in dismay. "Sorry, girl-ate it all. Tried to make 'em last a little longer or even share with ya guys but-that ain't as easy as it looks."

I banged my head to the wall several times before deciding to put my head to better use; on the door that separated me from crossing the line to freedom and food. Life was _way_ unfair.

Then it hit me.

_Was someone on the other side blocking it so we couldn't get out?_

"This is just _great_! We're trapped in here with _no food_, and _hey_-who knows _how long_ they're going to keep us in here? We have _school_ tomorrow-do they know _that_?"

Thinking of the negative possibilities made my stomach feel even worse.

"And besides, what can they ever possibly want from us? We're all innocent! Innocent, and _hungry_."

"I-I…it's all my…._fault_." Over by the corner was Lindsey, who sat crying her poor eyes out. She sobbed and sobbed into this random piece of red cloth that she had found on the cold floor, grasping it tightly as if there were no tomorrow. As if it were her _everything_.

Lewshana, having nothing better to do, went over to comfort her.

"I….I….why…._how_….how could I be so stupid?" stuttered Lindsey. Her elbows dug into her knees. "If I was never ever here…then _maybe_…"

My eyes hovered to the ceiling. _How did we get into this mess anyway?_

"If," corrected Lewshana, "you were never here, I'd be the only one enjoying all this bickerin' by Miss Heather herself. Wouldn't _that_ be a shame?"

I flinched. Lindsey lightened up. Slightly.

Lewshana's attention shifted, and she glanced at her watch, bewildered. "We've been in here for _eight_ hours."

For the first time in my life, I, Heather Johanssen, was genuinely _afraid_.

Afraid of never getting out.

* * *

**Sadie (Thursday, 11am)**

"I now officially hate you, you self-centered, big-mouthed, oversized creep!"

Honestly, at this point, the whole cafeteria was shuddering with absolute fear. Me? I was almost to tears, and pretty much confused as to why my Ex-BFFFL had blurted out the most disgusting words I had ever heard her say.

"But _why_ Katie? _How_ exactly did I break the most ultimate friendship code anyway?"

Fire seemed to be burning in her eyes, and for a tad second there, I could've sworn they flickered red. "Because," she raised a finger foe every point she made, "you didn't wear that sweater I made you today, your eyeliner is way too thin, and you spoke to Josh, right _in front_ of me!"

"But I did it for _you_!"

The crowd gasped.

Katie's fierce glare intensed. "Look, Sadie! You just let everyone know I like Josh!"

"As if you didn't make it obvious enough!"

The crowd nearly fainted.

Katie paused, the smirked. "You're _so_ pathetic, Sadie. And by the way, your excuses are _beyond_ lame." She then went in between two punk teenagers and linked arms with them. They were stunned by her actions; surprised Katie had more to her than we all thought. "In honor of my new rep, I will now hang out with _these_ people."

"FINE!"

"_Fine_."

That traitor and her new 'friends' exited the room. I grabbed my tray and slipped into the seat of another table. The students around it just stared; dumbfounded, amazed, flabbergasted.

"Looks like our sweet ol' Katie went a little sour today," one said.

"Everyone has their turning points," I shot back, the shoved a big spoon of slop into my mouth.

* * *

**Gwen (Thursday, 11:45am)**

I slammed my locker shut and gaped at him. "You _what_?"

Trent gave me that repetitive pleading look, and sighed. "I agreed to go to Alexis' party this weekend. But she said you could come too, so how exactly is that wrong?"

"She's even more of a mortal enemy to me than _Heather_. Trent, you should know that. Besides, it isn't even her birthday. That was three months ago!"

Raised eyebrow. "I thought you didn't bother digging dirt on Alexis."

"I think you'd remember if you were the only one who wasn't invited to just about the biggest party of the year."

"But this time she said-"

"That's only because you're here. She's plotting something, I swear."

"You can't be too sure."

"Trent; you're smarter than that," I grabbed my books out of my locker, and grimaced. "She's total plastic, and I don't even know why you're too keen on going to that stupid party anyway."

Trent paused. He didn't have an answer. "Because…because…"

"Listen, neither of us are going, case closed. And by the way," I smiled, then went towards my next class, "your shoes are untied."

* * *

**Izzy (Thursday, 2:30pm)**

"Omigosh! A _party_?" Trent told me all about it while I merrily sipped blended fish juice at the breakfast area. "We're invited to a _party_, and Gwen's not letting us _go_?"

Trent looked both ways nervously, as if he was actually afraid that Gwen would come out of nowhere and pounce on him! "Uh, yeah. Don't tell her I told you alright? I don't wanna-"

"-go through a slow, horrible, painful, epic, death? C'mon! It can't be that bad!"

"_Right_."

"Okay, whatever. The point is, we HAVE to go, I mean, seriouslyyyy, we've been here for a few days already, and Gwen hasn't taken us anywhere fun! We ARE on vacation, aren't we?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, we should be pretty content that Gwen invited us in the first place-"

"No offense Trent, you should totally try speaking English! Again with the BLAH BLAH BLAH's!"

"But I-"

"Aww, come on! It's going to be way fun! I hear this Alexis-person has indoor skydiving in her basement!"

"Still-"

"_Plus_, I hear she's expecting you to play a gig tonight with her brother's band! She told me two minutes ago on the phone! And they have cocktail weenies!"

He was speechless.

* * *

**Trent (Thursday, 2:35pm)**

I hate it when she's right.

* * *

**DJ (Thursday, 3pm)**

"Coast clear?" The guy at the water fountain looked up and gaped at me.

"Uh, why the heck are you hiding in the trash can? I bet there's all sorts of nasty things in there…like banana peels, ewww, and old lipsticks….and _poo_…"

"Yeah, well, I'm sort of hiding right now."

"Is it-"

"Yeah, pretty much. I'm not going to risk getting squeezed to death any longer."

"Good luck with that."

"Gee, thanks."

The guy left. Tripped first, then left. The bell rang, and the stampede trampled out. I swear, Samantha went around looking for me like crazy and even passed the 'can a couple of times, but I was lucky not to be seen.

"There you are!"

Maybe not.

Samantha squealed, then pulled me out, the dragged me over to the school exit doors. "Let's go shopping! Then out to dinner-your treat of course-then to the movies, then to park; just like normal boyfriends and girlfriends do!"

I choked. "Uh, I just realized that I forgot this important assignment at my locker, and-"

"No problem! I'll go with you!"

"Yeah, I kinda need to go alone…"

She looked like she exploded. "What? Are you hiding something from me? Is there someone else? Omigosh, there is totally someone else! Who is she? I'll rip to her pieces and blow her brains out!"

"Oh, wow."

She gave a sweet smile, then insisted, "Come on then! Forget that, get it tomorrow!"

I did the only thing I could do.

Run.

"DJ!" Samantha called after me, and she trailed behind.

I ran into a random classroom then locked the door tight, and ducked behind it. She headed past it, and was soon, (thank you) out of sight.

Figuring I should keep cover for awhile, and that just for the heck of it it wouldn't hurt, I scanned the room. The school's TV room.

This videotape, sitting on top of one of the screens, caught my eye.

For one thing, it was labeled WATLN – DJ.

* * *

**Bridgette (Thursday, 3:30pm)**

Matt and I walked over to the convenience store after school. Once we got there, we scraped all the change we had leftover to be able to purchase the well-desired chocolate bars.

"I think we have enough, " I informed, pulling out whatever had been in my pocket and extending it towards him. That was three paperclips, three strips of Juicy Fruit, and four quarters. "With our money combined, we can get two Kit-Kats, for sure."

He faked a smile. "I think…we're a few quarters short."

"But one candy bar's only-"

"Plus tax."

"Oh."

Matt placed a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it. I forgot that all the time…but _eventually_ you have to learn from your mistakes, right?" Another smile; genuine.

"Right," I returned his grin, then felt my back pocket. "Wait, I think there's something in here."

I pulled it out. Something crumpled between my fingers.

A picture. Of me, and-

_Oh no._

"You alright?" He glanced away from the array of candy and goodness and turned to me with a worried tone.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, pushing the bright pink coin purse back into my pocket.

"Gee, Bridge. You sure have been acting pretty odd lately..."

I felt my cheeks flush bright red. "No one calls me Bridge. No one except for-"

_Double oh no._

"I have to go," I began to step away from him, then closer to the building's exit. "Maybe we can buy snacks another time."

"Wait-" By then, I was halfway down the block.

* * *

**Duncan (Thursday, 3:45pm)**

Hehe, practice was great. Bugged Princess again as usual-though honestly, I think it's growing on her. Guess I'll have to tweak a few things.

"That is IT! I refuse to work with him any longer!" she exaggerated, and pointed a straight finger at me.

"Um, Courtney," her friend butted in. "I think there was a reason why they wanted you backstage. Away, from him. You kind of, just randomly came out here on your own."

She blushed, and scurried back behind the curtains, and I didn't get to see her for the rest of the day. Shame, really. Courtney was great to look at.

"You, you, ignorant jerk-ish pig!" She came up to me right after school and told it to my face. Given, she got a few stares, but almost everyone pretty much used to it. Then for some reason, she paused. "Listen, I think we need time off eachother. I am not going to get kicked off the drama club. I need that extra credit."

"Fine by me," I answered, then walked away. "See you around, princess."

"I think you missed the entire point."

I chucked a bit, then headed off; on my way back home I was stopped dead at my tracks.

"You kid!" An officer decked out in navy blue sped toward me. "Are you Duncan Mackenzie?"

A smirk. "Who wants to know?"

"Stop being a wise guy and answer me," he grabbed my collar and growled. "Are you Duncan Mackenzie?"

I struggled, though tried to keep my cool. "And if I am?"

"If you are, then you're coming with me."

"Where to? That doughnut store half 'cross the block?"

It was his turn to smirk. "Jail."

* * *

See? VERY short. Hopefully the next one will be twice as long. Sorry about that. Reviews are loved.

* * *


	8. Switching Emotions

Yay! An update. Didn't take as long as you thought, eh? I'm thinking the same thing. I'm extremely happy with how this one came out! A few things I would've rather had done, but I was too excited to post it up that I didn't bother with those.

**_Also _**This chapter only has 5 POVs. I realized this was what was slowing me down with updates-the fact that I felt the need to put in at least nine to ten POVs, and that I put too many of the plots into one part. So in this one, not only are the POVs better but also longer. 4 of them were around two to three pages on Word though the last one was only half a page. Sorry 'bout that.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own TDI.

Enjoy!

* * *

_"Uh, got a four?" He adjusted his cowboy hat, and cocked his head sideways._

_Cody smirked and stood, then pointed a direct finger at Geoff. "HA! Go fish! Jump in a lake! HAHA!"_

_I slapped my forehead. People stared at them. Go figure._

**Duncan (Thursday, 4:30pm)**

My father was already there. Guilty, staring, with apologetic eyes. _I'm sorry, son_, he would've said if he wasn't too awestruck to speak_, I'm sorry I was such an idiot._

The supposed officer-guy grunted then shoved me into one of the last two empty chairs that sat around the metal table. He took the last seat, and the one at the end started.

He looked at me first. "You're here for a reason, you know."

I knew.

It was dark. A mere quarter-sized hole was broken through the wall near the top, and that's where most of our light came from. And the room was so cramped it wasn't even funny. It made it impossible to breathe, which was hard enough already when you're trapped in the same ten-foot diameter as four other intimidating-looking men.

One wrong move and it's straight to the slammer for you, you delinquent.

Unless that's what they were planning from the start.

The man who spoke first, who I stereotypically predicted to be the main chief because of his uniform, coughed then began again. "Your father made a wrong move."

I knew that too.

"Because he cared about you."

I pretended not to crack. If it weren't for my too-good reputation, I would've exploded.

"Because he didn't want you stuck in jail for the next few years. You're a good man, Duncan, we know that, we've been tracking you for awhile now and been following your rather extensive criminal records. You're just confused. Very confused. But you're smart too. Like your parents, most of the time. You would've had a promising career if only you weren't so blind. But ironically, you pulled your father who always tried talking you out of it, into this mess too-"

I knew what he was going to say.

"-because _you_ made a wrong move."

I breathed, than answered him. "That's not really something new though, is it?" I guess it was pretty idiotic to say something witty at my current scenario, but it was hard not to let them see through my mask.

I mean, I knew they wanted me to feel guilty.

And no brainer-I was. More than I ever wanted to be. He was right-my father who often stuck around the good terms of things was suddenly screwed over, just because of _me_. And mom-she probably didn't even know we were downtown.

But I'd been in jail-no, juvey-before. Only this time, I felt actual shame.

_Shame._

"I'm sorry, Duncan. But you and your father will be taken to court for breaking the law and escaping the punishment when you caused yourself another year behind bars," he stood, then motioned for his men to drag us out.

What hurt the most was that I couldn't bring myself to say anything. Or turn to my father and tell him that _I_ was sorry.

How pathetic could I get?

"_Wait_, sir," the metal door swung open and a familiar voice insisted, "I apologize for barging in, but is this totally fair?"

Caught of guard, the chief looked up, and at the sight of the straight-to-the-point young lady, stuttered. "Y-yes, it's the law."

Courtney placed a hand to her hip, and grabbed a notebook. She flipped a few pages before looking back up. "If I'm not mistaken, you said Duncan could've had a promising career, if he changed his ways. How is he supposed to now that he's going back to the place he was avoiding, ever since he came _here_?"

Chief was bewildered. "How did you know I said that?"

"Not to be rude or anything, but I heard the whole thing from outside."

"Rats," he muttered.

She flipped a few more pages, and continued. "Let's put it this way, one day, Duncan is going to have finished highschool, get into a good college, and be very successful. And when someone asks him how he did it, he'll say 'because someone gave me a break'. And maybe, he'll even throw your name in there in place of 'someone'."

"Possibly, but-"

"Wouldn't you like that?" She read his thoughts; then again, everyone knew the chief enjoyed some credit, sometimes being a pushover for it.

The chief was almost speechless. "You drive a hard bargain, Evans. But it's still not enough-"

"And by the look on Duncan's face, sir, I think the guilt you caused was punishment enough. You should let him go," Courtney glanced at Mr. Mackenzie and added, "you should let them _both_ go."

He bit his lip, gave a thought or two, then looked back to his men. From his uniform pocket, he grabbed out a walkie-talkie, and muffled his words. The three-rest of us just stared at watched, occasionally passing eachother anxious glances. Then he turned back to us.

"I remind you, that the solution to this problem has never been an exception with the law," he said slowly. I wanted him to get on with it. "But that was a talk with the city council. Duncan, you get your break. Johnny, you're sticking around."

Courtney was ecstatic. "Woo! Hear that, Duncan? No slammer for you anymore!" And she wrapped her arms around me, before pulling away embarrassed.

Chief glared at us. "If you aren't out there in a hurry, I may change my mind."

And so we were kicked out of the station and heading back home.

I was first to talk, starting down at the ground as we walked. "Why did you come for me anyway?"

"For the play, Duncan. Boscarino would've cancelled for sure if you had to bail out, and no play means no extra credit. _Besides_-"

I didn't reply, and Courtney took notice of it. "Oh, so, no 'thank you' or anything, huh? I saved your immature butt out there, and you don't even-"

"My father's still in there, Princess."

She looked up at me, and bit her lip.

I went on. "Since I got him into enough trouble already, I'm going to break him out. And _no one_, is going to stop me. Got it?"

Courtney sighed, and replied, "I wasn't going to. If there's anyone in the world that makes Duncan Mackenzie feel guilt, then that person's all the worth rescuing," she smirked. "I'm with you."

I brought myself to smile for the first time within the last one and a half hours. Genuine too. "Good."

* * *

**Bridgette (Thursday, 5pm)**

I think Geoff and Cody were getting way too comfortable over here at Vancouver. They acted as though they lived here. Some people even knew them. And for one thing, the fridge was completely empty. I went for groceries just yesterday, too.

Seriously. They didn't even remember they were leaving in a few days. Cody was clogging toilets and Geoff was asking me these odd questions, and they lounged around the house all day. They did help my dad for a few hours everyday, but they spent the rest of their time watching TV, or touring the neighborhood. They sent me weird glances occasionally, and when I asked them what was wrong, they chuckled and pretended they had no idea what I was talking about.

They were hiding something, I was sure.

I didn't even know why they were here.

Alright. So maybe I'd gone ballistic, or overly irritated, but I was so confused, that I threw fits more often. That of course caused an even bigger chaos then I ever wanted, where Cody would go screaming and Geoff would get a little freaked out. My dad would then come in and tell us to keep it down, or else he'd kick us out of the house. He was watching a football game.

That night, he ironically did decided to throw us out for the next few hours, though really, since I had a shift at The West End Café, which was located somewhere around the Coal Harbour, where I worked three days a week, that didn't matter. They insisted on coming along, and I had no choice but to take them, as it was raining and that'd be just plain cruel to leave them there to catch colds. Besides, they were hungry.

We piled into my dad's car and I insisted, even though it caused a quick argument with Geoff who wanted to drive, that I take front seat. I threatened I wouldn't put extra whipped cream onto his hot chocolate if he didn't give in, so he sighed and took the passenger seat next to me. Cody had already crawled into the back. He didn't care as long as we got there.

"Drive faster," he insisted once we were on the road. "I think we're coming in closer contact with the sweet aroma of chocolate pastries."

I stepped on it, and despite all the screaming, we made it there mostly alive.

Cody dashed in there once we parked. Geoff slowed down a bit, as if he was waiting for me as I got my purse from one of the compartments.

"I didn't know you use purses," he told me finally, once we were almost inside.

"All girls do."

"Not all girls. I mean, I thought you didn't."

I felt slightly offended, and it showed in my voice. "And why is that?

He shrugged. "You're not like other girls."

I felt dumbfounded, and froze in my place. What did he mean that?

"Hurry, Bridge!" He grabbed my hand, and pulled me inside. "It's freezing out here."

A light blush came over my cheeks. "I-I…"

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

"I'd like two club sandwiches please," the elderly woman around her 50's held up two fingers, as she announced her order, "And today's special, yes."

I was daydreaming again.

"Miss? MISS?" She grabbed my shoulders and shook them, and I almost stumbled chin-first onto the counter.

"Oh, so sorry!" I bit my lip as I exaggerated frantically. "That'll be on the house. It won't happen again, I swear."

"It better." An intense glare, and I gulped, and the woman went to her seat to join her husband.

Cody and Geoff played cards at the table farthest to the right, and waved.

"Uh, got a four?" He adjusted his cowboy hat, and cocked his head sideways.

Cody smirked and stood, then pointed a direct finger at Geoff. "HA! Go fish! Jump in a lake! HAHA!"

I slapped my forehead. People stared at them. Go figure.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

My watch read 8:06. I threw over my apron to the hook, and shouted over to the co-worker at the back, "I'm ending my shift early!", then went over to their table. "Let's go. The rain stopped."

Geoff smiled. "Sounds great."

* * *

**Cody (Friday, 4pm)**

Friday Afternoon from the Eyes of a Who-else-but-Me, written entirely on the back of Geoff's failure love sonnets

_It's four o'clock in the afternoon. I am currently sitting behind the staircase railing with binoculars, making sure Geoff doesn't say anything stupid. He isn't. He isn't saying anything at all. He's concentrating. He and Bridgette are out on the back porch playing Scrabble. Bridgette is easily winning. But Geoff does not notice. He's debating whether to put the word 'CAT' or 'DOG' onto the board, but it appears to be a difficult decision for him as he is not sure which is worth more points. Then Bridgette laughs. She seems like she is having a good time. Suddenly her eyes widen and she pauses, as if she had remembered something important, and heads back inside and dashes up the stairs. Two seconds later, her hair is fixed and she is heading out the door. Geoff does not notice. He's still concentrating. I realize I extremely need to talk some sense into that guy. _

_Oh, wait, the phone's ringing. I'm gonna go answer that._

_Cody_

"Hello?" The voice was familiar. _Very _familiar. "Hey, Bridgette. It's DJ. I'm dropping something off in approximately five seconds. I need something figured out. You're smart, I think there's a good chance you can help me. Thanks."

DJ. _DJ? _I suddenly remembered I knew a guy named DJ. From the island? He lived around here? Wow. I didn't know that.

The doorbell rang, so I went to get that. A figure on a large black bicycle pulled away down the street, dropping a bulky package on the second step up. It was titled 'For Bridgette', so I brought it inside and tore the packaging apart myself.

It was a videotape.

_Strange,_ I thought to myself, then went to the family room to watch it. It was footage of DJ, running frantically away from some girl. Now why would he do that? He should be grateful. At least the girl didn't _look_ like a freak, which, you know, she could have.

Then I wondered even more so, _now why would he want to drop off footage of him being freakishly scared of this girl?? _Of course, DJ was scared of lots of things as I remembered, but I figured he had a few issues if he wanted to share it with the rest of the world.

But suddenly I realized threw was a crumpled note attached to one part of the ripped package, in DJ's handwriting.

_Bridgette,_

_I didn't record this. I just found it._

_DJ._

_(PS: Can you also help figure out what the title on it means?.)_

WATLN? – DJ.

It was an acronym. That was all I knew so far.

Guess I had to do some research.

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

It actually wasn't very hard to find it out.

I just had to type the letters in, and over a hundred pages came up.

So I clicked on one.

_Where Are The Losers Now? (WATLN?) is a hit new reality TV show that first aired September 17, 2008, and is hosted by Chris Maclean. It features scenes and insights on the dramatic lives of the past contestants of Total Drama Island, that take place about year later (present). Only, they have absolute no clue that they're on national television, AGAIN-_

I immediately quit the page and headed downstairs, as to where Geoff was still concentrating.

"Um, Geoff?" I asked him, uneasily, briefly glancing side to side. "Ever get the feeling you're being…watched?"

Geoff stared at his tiles, still contending to himself. Suddenly, he looked up. "Oh, sorry. Can you repeat that? I kind of missed it."

"Never mind."

* * *

**Gwen (Friday, 6:30pm)**

I couldn't find them anywhere.

But I could've sworn they were home two hours ago. You know, in their respective guestrooms, or outside in the backyard, enjoying the glorious weather.

But then twilight struck, and I was going to call out to them that it was time to watch this classic art documentary, Da Vinci and stuff, as they had promised me. No answers. No one came downstairs, or back indoors, or from wherever Izzy decided to pop out from.

And then it hit me.

They were at that stupid party.

Of course, my first instincts were to just let it be, and give them a talk about it later, when they came home.

My second instincts were to rush over there, tell Alexis off for bewitching those two with her preppy magic, then drag those two home. I went with that.

I stepped into my brother's car (he had two, and didn't give a hoot if I used his old one) and turned the ignition. About four seconds later, I was at the Claywood Estate.

"Uh, s-sorry maam," the body guard, all dressed in black, told me. "But you don't appear to be on this guestlist-"

"Listen," I replied firmly. "Alexis must've told you she invited her entire school. And since I'm in her school, I should be on it, right?"

"But, she also told me specifically not to let _anyone_ with the name Gwendolyn Ramando near the party."

"Aww," I put on an act. "C'mon, Freddy-please?"

He froze. "How did you know my name was-"

I barged right in.

The lights were dimmed, colorful lights streaming at different sections, at different times. It was almost impossible to shove through the crowds and all of their 'Ouch's and 'Watch where you're going's. Then I heard a band playing once I strained my ears hard enough, and then a voice-Trent's voice, definitely.

"He's great, huh? I told you." I spun around, and there was Alexis, chatting and smirking with one of her snob friends. "He's absolutely perfect for me."

I gulped. He _was _perfect.

I actually hadn't heard him sing in awhile now. Or at least, up close. Sometimes he'd sing and play guitar outside on the porch, and as much as I would've wanted to, I couldn't confront him. I was too afraid to ruin his music.

It was beautiful.

And he was beautiful too, on that stage, glowing, like an angel.

And that smile-

"Gwen?" Suddenly, everything stopped. The singing, the music, the drums, and everything was focused one me. I felt like I'd shrunken ten sizes.

Trent stared at me, bewildered.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "If this is what you want, then…"

I ran out, and felt a random tear roll down my cheek. I started the engine, trying to breathe.

"Gwen!" A redheaded figure caught up with me, and snuck onto the car seat next to me. "I hope you don't mind, but I need a ride home."

I didn't answer, and we rolled out of parking lot.

"It was a great party! With the whole array of cocktail weenies-over twenty different flavors-and all! I like, had the whole refreshment table all to myself! Anyone who came close got pounced on!" Izzy chuckled, then froze. "I'm extremely sorry for sneaking out! It's just that I was really, really, really bored and-"

"It's okay," I said bluntly, and she sighed in relief.

We were almost home by now, only a few legal minutes away from my street.

"Hey, you know Trent got offered a record deal from Mr. Claywood, right? Isn't that awesome?"

I almost crashed into the stop sign.

She continued. "Which means he might have to stick around for a few more weeks, months, maybe."

"Tell me something else I don't know." I knew I was about pass out any second now, right in the middle of the street.

She suddenly became serious. She stared at the sky, and bit her lip. "He has a date with Alexis Claywood this Saturday."

* * *

**Noah (Friday, 11:59pm)**

I knew that the answer was somewhere. The answer to win student council president over Justin.

It was just something I needed to find out.

No way would I lose that silent self-centered jerk.

I researched all night-digging any type of dirt I could find about him. He was a part-time male model, the last time he spoke over ten words was when he was eight, and that he probably had over a billion dollars all for him stashed in the bank.

But it was difficult looking for bad things in someone with a good, smart reputation.

I had a dream once, recently. I was on top of the school steps during fifth period, an invisible trophy in my hands, and everyone was cheering my name at the top of their lungs. Then I crowd-surfed-something I would've found mediocre under any other circumstance-and then I was suddenly president.

I told Kevin this dream, and he told me to keep dreaming. I whacked him.

Of course I was going to win. I had to.

* * *

Hoped you all liked it! I think this is some of the best writing I've ever done. Woot!

Reviews, please! :)


	9. Even More Drama

**AND FINALLYYY. DUN DUN DUN DUN. Chapter 9 is complete. (:**

**I'm EXTREMELY happy with how this one came out, and I just read the first chapter of this which I wrote awhile back, and I have to say, I've really changed/improved(?) as a writer since last December when I started writing this. Thanks for all the favs and alerts, guys! About 25 for each-that's pretty good for me. ;D**

**Anyway, like the last chapter-5 POVS. Hope you guys like this one. **

**Dedicated to all you who take out of YOUR OWN PRECIOUS TIME to read my story. I really appreciate it. **

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN TDI. **

* * *

_She stroked my cheek and walked over to the door, and paused. "This sucks. I hate how this is ending…"_

_"Just like the movies."_

_"Just like the movies…" she agreed, sent a somewhat hopeful smile my direction, and left._

* * *

****

Courtney (Saturday, 2:17am)

"You doin' okay, princess?" Duncan looked at me from across the room, concerned. The funny thing was he seemed all serious and sincere, instead of using that mocking tone he used 98 of the time he spoke to me. I guess that's one thing I've learned about Duncan-he's full of surprises.

I smiled. "Gee, thanks for asking. I'm pretty alright." Under my breath I distastefully added, "besides the fact I'm trapped in this pint-sized jail cell with this regular 'who-isn't-all-that-bad-but-still-' criminal. But besides that, I'm totally fine."

He heard me and chuckled, then glared down at the stone-cold floor while tracing obscure patterns with this forefinger. "You think a guy like me would be used to this place by now." He turned to face the dark brick wall opposite of him. "But you're wrong."

I stared at him hard. Underneath the Duncan I was used to, there was pain. I scanned the room, and sighed. "I don't think anyone could get used to this place."

* * *

"_I'm not so sure about this, Duncan," Courtney bit her lip as she continued to crawl through the station's air vents, that resembled closely to just an elaborate system of never-ending tunnels. Her ponytail was swung over her shoulder, and she wore a black stealthsuit. _

_The delinquent cocked his head back to grin at her and shrug. "We've got to keep going, princess. You agreed to this."_

"_Yeah well, I had no idea that-"_

"_Keep alive, I think we're almost there," Duncan whispered as he came across an escape vent. He dropped his flashlight and jerked the metal rectangle open, and took his rope out of his backpack. _

_Courtney still wasn't too convinced. "But seriously, I have a _really_ bad feeling about this…"_

"_Jump."_

"_Excuse me?" Before she had a real chance to respond, he pulled her to his chest and they swung down the rope, with her held firm in his left arm. She blushed, but shook it off immediately. "I mean, what if-"_

_A large figure grabbed them both by their collars, leaving their legs suspended in the air. _

"_-we get caught?"_

* * *

"Hey, Courtney," he never called me by my real name. "Can I tell you something? Even if it's pretty stupid?"

At that very moment I just sat hugging my knees, and looked up when he talked. "You can tell me anything."

He scooted over next to me. "Okay, but you tell me first-when you feel really bad about something you did, what do you do about it?"

"I don't know, what do _you_ do?"

Duncan picked up a small piece of sharp stone and lifted it up for me to see. "I write it all down." And he did.

My eyes widened as he carved the whole floor area with his words; his handwriting messy, but bearable enough to get some of it.

_I'm sorry I stole your crayon in first grade, Gretta. _

_Sorry I pushed you off the balcony when I was seven, Jeremy. _

And over there, right at the spot right in front of me, he wrote,

_Courtney, I'm sorry I got you into this. _

"Wow," I said finally after he finished his half-hour at work. "That's a lot of things."

He laid back onto the wall with his hands behind his neck and smirked. "Hm. Expect anything less, princess?"

"Not at all."

* * *

In a span of five minutes from tapping on one wall twice, hearing a few taps back, and breaking an eye-hole through the brick, Duncan soon discovered his cellmate was a buddy of his from the Oakland station.

"Never thought I'd see you again, Duncan-my-boy!" chuckled the man from the other wall. From his voice alone and all the coughing in between, I decided he was pushing his sixties. Either that, or he'd been in there for an extremely long time.

"You too, Spike! You too," answered that delinquent, and at that point I wondered how anyone could be that happy to be in a jail cell. It was too crazy.

Their conversation about usual criminal stuff went on for another twenty minutes, and even though I wasn't entirely paying attention, I picked up that, _one_, that other guy _had_ been there awhile-4 years, in fact, so far-for poisoning his dear aunt by 'accident', and two, that back in the day Duncan was known as 'Carver'. Pun included, _hahaha_.

It's also pretty queasy having two fairly major criminals within ten feet of you.

After awhile I fell asleep, or at least partly, and when I awoke, party, they were still chatting like _old men_.

"Yeah, so, I was (cough) suppose' to be transferred (cough) to the more permanent _Pied-du-Courant Prison_, but (cough) you know what, I heard you're only fed twice a week over (coug)h there! So I bit and yelled, and I like it damn better over here, thank you very much!"

Laughter from both sides.

Then I heard Duncan stop to ask Spike if he knew where his father was.

"You're father? That cop? Well cough I guess we know now where you got your bad blood from!"

More chuckling, but Duncan stopped after a few minutes to say he was serious.

Spike smiled, chuckled a bit more then choked on air, then told him today was his lucky day.

Duncan's father shared his cell.

After while my eyes were blinking slowly into unconsciousness and I heard Mr. Mackenzie's voice from behind the other wall.

"What do you think you're doing, son?" He asked in this sort of alarmed, confused, fatherly way.

The slammer lock shook as Duncan picked at it with a broken hairpin he'd found. "I'm thinking of breaking us out."

* * *

**Ezekiel (Saturday, 10:01am)**

I could tell you right now that today ran by totally smoothly; as in, nothing majorly horrible and embarrassing happened at all, etc, etc. But that would be lying.

I could tell you that when I woke up this morning Mr. Sun came up and I shaved off my chest hair, but that'd be partly lying too 'coz Mom won't let me use shaving cream.

But I could tell you that everything was going pretty okay until 'the incident' and that'd be mostly the truth, only now I've realized that 'the incident' wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't such an insult to my manlihood

Although, I'm sorta getting ahead of myself, eh, and I might as well tell you what 'the incident' was.

Okay, so it all started like this: My alarm rang, I tumbled off my bed startled, checked myself out in the mirror, then ran down for breakfast. Orange juice and Cocoa Puffs. Like always.

There was a club meeting today by the Rejects' dumpster, and we were going to discuss how much better the world would be without football, and football players. Grabbed my jacket then flung out the door, dashed to the school which didn't feel as weird as it usually would be even though it was Saturday.

So when I got there I was pretty early, which surprised me a little, even though I'm only twelve minutes away, tops. There was another Reject already there, leaning against the broken cola machine a few feet away. He was around my height, maybe shorter, but made up for it in toughness. For example, right now, he's glaring at me.

"You, kid! Didja bring the BBQ chips?" He stomped over and grabbed my collar.

Oh yeah, I was supposed to bring the snacks today…. "Right! Well, you see, I-"

We heard footsteps, and I dropped to the ground with a loud _thud_. "_Pathetic_."

"Meeting in order!" Anthony walked in with a bright smile, and a bag of our usual chips. The guy practically saved my butt there.

The rest of the Rejects arrived in, and we all gathered in a large circle by the dumpster. Harold was at my left.

"Personally if the earth was actually willing to give up football, I'd get rid of the guy of the guy who like, invented it in the first place," he stated. "I mean, didn't it all start with him?"

Nods and 'true's. Everyone agreed.

"Besides," contributed Squid, who sat across from me, "seeing how all football players are jerks, I bet the guy was like, king, of Jerktown."

Suddenly everyone was making plans to hunt the guy down and beat him.

"Wait," I popped out, "but isn't the guy already dead?"

And then everyone went all upset because that ruined everything when I brought it up, so I kept my mouth shut for the rest of the meeting. I was a little too bothered to, anyways. The memory of the incident kept coming back to me.

I didn't even know why it did, but there was something about that guy that wasn't quite…there. But I mean, it was just getting picked on-which wasn't all that knew, right?

Wrong, I found out later, when the guy from earlier asked to go to the washroom.

For some reason, all the guys left were snorting as he left. But that didn't bother me too much.

Until they reached into his sling bag, which we had left out here at his spot, and pulled out some sort of cloth. "Look guys, it's Garbage's _bra_!"

"And her female toiletries too!"

"Hey, wait a sec, but isn't he a _guy_?"

They laughed harder. "Yeah, _right_."

"You didn't know?"

"But he, _she's_-"

And at that very moment, it all came so dreadfully clear to me that I nearly passed out. Okay, I did. But still, there was no way I could believe, that I was almost beat up by a g-_girl._

_--_

**Lewshana (Saturday, 2pm)**

"I knew you'd show up." You couldn't really tell if she was intimidated or not, seeing as she had a pair of designer sunglasses on, and that lame trenchcoat she wore on a boiling day like today, was actually a pretty darn good cover.

I rolled my eyes and joined her at her table, grabbin' the seat opposite of her. "Wasn't like you gave me much of a choice, honey."

"Whatever," she then took several delicate sips from her smoothie and examined her nails. "Anyway, Lindsey said she'd be here in a few."

"Guh-reat. The sooner we get this discussion down, the _better_." I 'unintentionally' put a 'lil emphasis on 'better'.

She yanked her sunglasses off and gave me a look. I don't know if it was by the way I said it or whatever, but miss Heather seemed pretty ticked off. "Hey, it's not _my_ fault we nearly died in that janitor's closet."

I stood up, and looked down on her cold. "Then who's damn fault is it then?!"

"I am SO sorry I'm late guys!" Lindsey came in, panting and worried; she dropped her bags on Heather's benched then plopped down next to them.

"Actually," I smirked as Heather shot me a glare, "you came right on time."

She seemed a heck of a lot more relieved, and lightened up. "Omigosh, I was like SO scared at first, 'coz I thought you guys would be TOTALLY mad at me, but it turns out-"

The waiter came around to take our orders. Meanwhile, Lindsey kept talking.

"And then the guy went all 'So what do you think' and I go like 'I don't get it' and then he goes like, 'what' and I say-"

Heather cleared her throat. "And then I go, 'Lindsey, shut up, 'coz we're here for a _reason_, you know'."

"Oh," said Lindsey, a little disappointed. "Right."

I began, all serious and all. "We need to know-_who_ locked us in there, for _what _reason exactly, and _why_."

Everything was silent, and we realized we were the only ones, besides the cashier, left at the diner.

Lindsey stared down, hard, as she slipped that same red and white-trimmed headband from a few days ago onto the table, and ever-so quietly, so slowly, whispered, "I think I know."

* * *

**Geoff (Saturday, 4pm)**

"Gee, I never thought you were into chick movies." Bridgette smiled as she entered the Pattersons' den, took the seat next to me (Yeah, man! :D), and grabbed the bowl of popcorn and set it on her lap.

That day Cody was out for souvenirs before we flew back. He also went out of my way to leave me and you-know to spend some quality time before we were to leave for the airport. I wasn't sure she knew.

Airing on the television screen was indeed, a chick movie (and no, not the ones that hatch from eggs), and it was playing that scene in the beginning, when he met her as his next door neighbor… "As you can see, and taste," I gestured to the bowl in her hands and pulled out a piece without kernel, "I seasoned the popcorn carefully with all dressed seasonings, with love, and with care."

She popped one into her mouth. "Hmm. Impressive."

The movie switched to the scene on the docks, where they purchased specialty fish and chips with drinks, and sat there talking about themselves. The girl loved water…

Bridgette made a face all of a sudden. "I don't like how it ends."

"Oh, 'coz the guy dies in that car crash?"

She stared at me like there was a lot more to that, and that I was at fault for not pointing it out. "You missed the whole point. Weren't _you_ also crying at credits the first time you saw this?"

Now it was at the scene when the guy was pronounced a drunk who wanted to stop, and learned that his vision was harshly blurred… "I'm a guy, Bridge," and I shrugged.

"Sometimes," she crossed her arms. "Guys can be so insensitive. And I hate that."

"I-"

A sigh. "Well I guess I can't blame you. It was kinda corny how it happened kind of unexpectedly, like, five minutes before the movie was going to end, right after they solved the guy's drug problem, but it…it came back…" I noticed she was clinging to me at that point. "No wait, tons of movies end that way, don't they?"

"Well, yeah."

Bridgette sighed again, then smiled and looked up at me. "Some movies just suck for that, eh?"

I noticed just then that her face was only centimeters away from mine….

The stupid phone rang.

"Sorry," she whispered, then as she stood, slightly whispered, "I'll go get that."

"Oh, sure." And she exited the den to the phone in the kitchen.

I will now express how much I wanted that and how bothered I am within the rest of this mere paragraph: DARN IT. DARN IT. DARNNN IT. SO CLOSE.

Anyway.

"Oh yeah, sure, I'll be ready by then," she said to the other line, "Bye", and she ran upstairs.

Meanwhile I went to look for a snack. Twenty minutes past five and the doorbell rang. _So close_, I thought over and over while I went to see who it was.

"Yeah, is Bridgette here?" In front of me stood a guy around my age; tall, brown hair, intimidated.

I tried to make my voice seem deeper. "Umm, I can't tell you."

"_Right_. Who are you anyway?"

"Her brother."

He seemed satisfied, slightly. "_Right._ Can I see Bridgette now, please?"

Who was he and what exactly did he want? No way was I going to let him-

"Matt!" Bridgette and her gorgeous voice scurried down the stairs, all-dolled up. "Sorry I'm late, I was just-"

She froze.

I froze.

'Matt' was just confused, and he wanted to leave. "I'll meet you outside, alright?" he smiled, then walked out to his car.

Bridgette looked at me nervously. I could nearly here her heart beat. Fast. "This-this isn't what it looks like!"

I patted her on the head and swallowed. "But…it is."

"I'm so sorry!" I pulled her close, and I felt a tear on my shoulder. "I should've-"

"Go." She stared at me like I was crazy. "He's waiting for you."

She stroked my cheek and walked over to the door, and paused. "This sucks. I hate how this is ending…"

"Just like the movies."

"Just like the movies…" she agreed, sent a somewhat hopeful smile my direction, and left.

I closed the door behind her. Gently.

In a few hours, before she'd get back, Cody and I would be boarding the seven-thirty flight back to New Brunswick. Back home.

* * *

**Gwen (Saturday, 7:03pm)**

I bit my lip as I peered briefly through the restaurant's window. "I don't know."

Izzy glanced away from her binoculars and laughed. "Seriously, don't you worry about it! I have it all planned out, I even made a chart! Although I left it at home. But that's not the point! The point is- " And then she coincidentally forgot what 'the point' was, and turned her attention back, the binoculars' rims planted against the glass. "I'll have to get back to you on that."

And yeah, her malicious little grin made it obvious it was going to be a long night. "Alright then. I'm placing _all_ of my pathetic hope, in you."

"That's the spirit! Now, do you see them anywhere?"

I snuck a quick look then crossed my arms tight. "Hard to tell, _you're_ the one with the binoculars."

"Oh, right." She scanned the room. From a lesser view I could tell the place was fancy. Chandeliers, fine cuisine, a grand orchestra harmonizing near the back-I swallowed as the right words, right thoughts processed through to me. A reservation would be _expensive_.

"Hey look!" Izzy nearly snapped all that thinking away from me for a brief second, then pointed to one of the tables centered in the middle of the restaurant. "It's…it's…

I bit my lip harder. "Them."

Izzy patted my shoulder. "Try not to explode."

"That's rather difficult."

And then it was like a lightbulb went off, or on, whatever, and suddenly Izzy got the most brilliant idea yet. "Imagine you're punching Alexis Claywood's face right now, and you're _really_ leaving a mark."

Bloody brilliant. "Now if only I could be doing that for real, I'd kill for that…" I trailed off, then sighed as it hit me. "But, it-'it's not just her, it's….it's me. I was stupid to think that Trent and I…actually had something going on."

She shrugged. "_I_ thought you guys you guys had something going on."

"Yeah but…" More trailing, more questions to ask myself, _Is this really the best time for opening up? And is _Izzy_ really the best person to share all this with?_ "You don't get it. All this time he was here, I feel as if I was sort of neglecting him…treating him more like just some regular human being, instead of my friend, or my…" The last word hurt to say, because then I remembered, once and for awhile, there was a time he _was_, and I thought-

-that he'd always be that, and eventually, more.

But I was stupid to think that. "_Boyfriend_."

I'm not sure if Izzy was listening, but she had her eyes glued to Table #12.

My Trent, and Alexis Claywood. And they looked happy.

* * *

That night I slowly remembered the lyrics of the song I heard him playing on the front porch one day, lyrics that kept me reassured previously...lyrics that gave me hope…

_And when everything falls apart, I'll always be there to catch you when you fall_

_It'll be just you and me, and no one else_

I whispered the words to myself, not as beautifully as he'd sing them, but that didn't matter.

_We'll have our perfect world to ourselves_

_In the end, In the end_

Suddenly I wasn't so sure.

But I kept singing anyway.

* * *

**Hoped you guys liked this. (:**

**(Oh, and that single mini two-line divider means nothing different with the usual FF ones...just wouldn't work there for some reason)**

**(And I made up those lyrics myself C: )**

**The next chapter should be less serious (if, you guys found this serious) because I already have this one idea all picked out, hehe. Please review! -points to pretty blue button right below-**


	10. Red Lights

**Back with another update. :D Seriously, don't you just love updates? **

**Okay, well, this one maybe's not as great as the last one, but it's pretty important. And I'm pretty happy with how this cam out. Anyway, I'm hoping you guys enjoy, and I want to let you know, that I'm making all this up as I go along, and I still don't have much an idea where I'm going with this, for real. But anyways, lets get on with the story..**

**BUT FIRST. A NOTE. (-shot-) The little 'preview', which is what you'll read first, happens around Gwen's POV near the bottom, and will be more associated into the next chapter than this one. And sorry for a few repeated grammar here in there. Some words are just too good to be used just twice. (Besides 'the' and all that...)**

**AND NOW THE DISCLAIMER: I don't own TDI. I'd like to, but who's gonna listen to me here?**

**Okay, now you guys can start reading. (:**

**Thanks for not reminding me to shut up.**

* * *

At exactly 7:00pm, two million and fourteen viewers turned their televisions on to Channel 17.

One million and seven-hundred TV screens presented the movie star-face of Maclean himself, presenting himself at what seemed to be his studio, which seemed to be located near a bunch of high-end gym equipment. He sits in front of twenty-two smaller screens, each one with a different image, and he sips a porcelain cup of black tea. There's a larger man beside him, operating the system.

Then he begins. _"My name is Chris Maclean, and __if_ _you don't know, I am the host of this show, 'Where Are The Losers Now?', which, if you don't know __that__ either, is a follow up to the exceedingly popular season one of 'Total, Drama, Island'_."

An overweight yet awfully familiar teenager waddles into sight, obviously worn out, then passes out. The viewers than notice he is naked, and gasp.

Maclean is slightly bothered. _"Uh, yeah, okay, that's a __teensy__ bit disturbing to see, but I guess we can leave him there for the ratings," _then he continues_, "in this exceptionally popular program, if you don't know, __again_," he paused to frown, "_we follow the contestants who actually thought that once they left Camp Wawanakwa about a year ago, we would __actually__ leave them alone_."

He pauses again for the dramatic effect. "_But NO. We decided to stick around their lives for a little a bit, and to also, share our glory with you lucky viewers. Turns out, 'drama' never rubbed off them, and well if they __did_," Maclean grinned. "_We__ made sure they __didn't_."

Chef grunted.

"This _week, we decided to up the drama-meter a wee bit, and cross your fingers, let's hope our former campers have a __scratching__-good time with that_-"

Being one of the two million and fourteen viewers, Harold's jaw dropped. As he felt a slight itch on his left shoulder.

* * *

**Cody (Sunday, 2am, somewhere in the skies of the central coast)**

"Are you gonna eat that?" Geoff slowly turned to me and shrugged, passing his tray of towards me.

I grinned, which I found out later on, made me totally oblivious to Geoff. "You know, airplane grub isn't that bad."

He sighed, and he continued staring out the window, with this let down look in his eye. I decided he wasn't that hungry.

I tore off a piece of cornbread and chewed loud, while he sighed again. "_Really_."

* * *

Right then we were on our flight back to Edmonton, Nova Scotia. After spending a few days chilling in B.C. and paying our old friend a surprise visit, and begging for a place to stay since we'd spent every penny on those tickets. Just because he and I both needed a break, and also so Geoff could see if he could rekindle what they had. I hadn't asked how it all went yet, but something else had been bothering me for awhile now…

"You know, you've been staring out the window for awhile now."

A beat.

I chuckled anxiously. "But if you'd like to keeping doing that, then, erm, go ahead."

He twitched. Was that a sign of relief?

"I mean, I'm not stopping you. Or anything."

* * *

A few minutes later, I twitched. Guess it's catching on. Heh.

* * *

About a half hour later, it came to me. (Well, for the second time, but it was only now that it came to me that this was the time to ask.) "Now I get it! You're missing Bridge already, aren't you?"

Geoff jerked forward and lightly banged his head on the glass.

I went on, glad that I was finally getting somewhere. "Honestly, I can't blame you. Ah, young love. You _know_-"

"That's not all of it." His expression was still glued to the window, but it was the first few words I'd heard from him in awhile, so I guessed it was a start.

"Naw, don't worry about it. You'll see her again, for sure-"

He turned slightly away from the window, and whispered, "You don't understand, man-"

"Geoff my man! You're underestimating me here! Trust me, I know. I've gonna through the exact same thing." I paused, and thought for a bit. "Sort of. Trust me-"

"Bridgette's lied to me…and I'm really hurt about it, okay?" He said it, so uneasy yet so convinced at the same time. I stared at him, staggered.

After awhile of thinking, I told him, all serious and all, "Then we're heading back. I didn't pay for these tickets for nothing-"

He shook his head. "Don't-"

A voice on the intercom blasted, announcing to fasten their seatbelts as they were heading for a quick pit stop.

Geoff sighed again, and stared back out the window. "It's not like we can do anything about it now."

* * *

**Beth (Sunday, 10:21am)**

I blinked. "Gee…it's so nice of you to stop by…"

Alexis and 'crew' appeared on my doorway step at exactly 10:22, no seconds left counting. Examing their nails. Doing their make-up.

"Although…maybe this isn't such an appropriate time." My hair stuck all over the place and I _really _needed to floss. "Do you think that maybe-"

She beat around my 'almost'-question. "If it isn't too much, we'd like to come inside." And she popped her gum.

I felt my teeth and cringed. "Umm…I guess."

They pushed their way in and scanned the living room (which, was the first room you would see when you enter the house) like potential home buyers. Literally. They even asked for the square footage and number of bathrooms. Weird.

"This'll have to do," Alexis said finally, glancing for a last time at the light fixtures on the ceiling.

I just stared. "For what?"

She smirked and turned to one of her posse' behind her. "Tell Beth, Rachel."

"There's going to be a party here Friday night," announced 'Rachel'. "With an exclusive performance by that _adorable hunk_-I mean," she corrected as Alexis shot her a look, "Alexis' boyfriend. But he wants it to be a private gathering, which is just like, impossible if it's held at the Claywood Mansion."

I felt my hair. Dry and Stringy. "But…why my place?"

"Because," snapped Alexis, "Trent himself suggested it."

"He…did?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for some reason, we wanted the whole thing low-key. I would've said something against that otherwise, but he, like, nearly went on his knees…" she took a breath, "And he told me if he's going to screw up, he'd rather not in front of all those people. But it's so stupid, 'coz when he does hell would've freezen over.."

Alexis continued. "And BTW, there's going to be a few big-time, undercover,_ interested_ agents attending this event. We're allowing you to come, Beth, but _please_, you are _not_ allowed to act like such a loser."

I pretended that didn't hurt, and nodded. "Yes, maam!"

She made a face. "Good. I have people coming over in half an hour to fix up the place. Just stay out, and don't freak out because I've already paid the bill."

Right then I remembered I still had to dress out of my pajamas, and that this wasn't such a great time, and that I wouldn't be near ready in half an hout. But I forgot all that, for awhile. "Got it!"

And one by one, in a straight reformed line, they headed out, Alexis last, to tell me, "And thanks. I would've had no idea that Trent likes seafood."

The door slammed, leaving me there at the very center of the family room, to take it all in.

Yeah, I really needed a shower.

* * *

**Duncan (Sunday, 11:47am, inside a speeding vehicle)**

"_Stop the car_!" My father stepped on the brakes suddenly, and before Courtney got the chance to finally catch her breath, we were moving all over again-this time, _even faster_.

She clung on to me, and panicked. Loud.

I decided not to ruin the moment by turning her off, but technically that meant I wasn't allowed to say a word.

Courtney seemed relieved after awhile, until she stared out the window and saw the police trailing behind us, and then she started freaking out some more. I clamped my hand over her mouth and smirked.

"Honestly, princess, this isn't that big a deal. Nothing to worry about, really."

Her response was a few highly-irritated gagging noises.

I continued, part of me trying to piss her off, but mostly I was trying to get her to calm down. "Look, we're gonna lead them off in the wrong direction, then take a slightly illegal u-turn back on the main road. Everything's fine."

She cringed at the word 'illegal'.

Then stepped hard on my foot and broke free.

Way to ruining the moment yourself, princess.

"That ain't the right way to lead on a nice young lady now, say, Dunny?" Spike chuckled as he turned to us in the backseat. He was the fourth person on fast prison-break, besides Courtney, my dad, and I.

"Well, you wouldn't know now, would you?"

He laughed. "I was quite the talker back in the day."

"You still quite are."

Spike took a quick glance at Courtney, grouchy as ever, sitting as farthest as she could from me in the backseat. "Back in the day, chatty men always got them girls."

I also glanced at Courtney as I replied. "Nowadays chatty men just piss them off."

She crossed her arms.

"You _kids_," my father also referred to Spike right there, "better shut up right now. The cops are _right on our tail_ right now and I'm going to need a little concentration here." He said it more like a _criminal_ than an _officer_ himself. .

"Right." I peeked out behind us, then made a split decision. "You're got to make that quick left. They're thinking we're heading north, well screw that. Now we're going left."

He grinned. "That's my boy."

We made that turn.

Courtney spoke for the first time in awhile. "They went north."

"Good thing."

Our vehicle-the old Toyota, if you must know-slowed down at the alleyway.

Then suddenly Courtney opened her mouth to scream. But nothing came out. Suddenly Spike swore under his breath, and my father was at lost for words, and stopped the car in dismay.

A man in navy exited his four-door sedan and walked over, pointed his gun at my father's rolled-down (by coincidence) window, and smirked. "Busted."

* * *

He made several rounds around the car, taking extra looks at Courtney, which really ticked me off. But we weren't allowed to move.

After awhile he instructed all of us out of the car. By then I was reaching _my_ boiling point.

And then you know what my father did next? He punched the guy right in the nose.

"_We're out of here_." And he backed out of the alley, then we headed back on main road.

Courtney started crying. "You told me not to worry."

"Because there was nothing to worry about."

She stared at me cold. "Yes, there was."

A few minutes later she spoke again, this time in a more-irritated sorta way, and whispered, "We're going to miss our play."

"Isn't this a whole lot more exciting than some play, princess?"

Courtney didn't answer. But I knew deep down-the ride, the thrill, the _danger_- she was enjoying every minute of it. You could just tell.

* * *

**Gwen (Sunday, 7:04pm, Rymando residence)**

I jerked the freezer door open and pulled out the tub of rocky road. Extra marshmallows too; and I dug in. Heaven, I thought, or at least close.

Two full-spoon bites, then I swallowed, trying to resist the brain-freeze. Trying to forget all about him, who, also happened to really like rocky road. I sighed, then shoved another good serving into my mouth, before finally grabbing a seat at the table, and giving up on the second thing. It made the fourth bite taste not so sweet.

But I can't help it. Eating like that, I mean. I eat when I'm nervous, I eat when I need it, I eat when I…

Ugh. I just thought of him again.

I could feel my shoulders tensing. Maybe ice cream wasn't going to work today.

Then I heard music.

He was playing that song…

I walked over to the window by the front porch. Front row seats.

Trent caught my glance. I turned back, and walked deeper back into the house.

My phone rang. It was a good excuse. "Hello?"

"Is this Gwen?" An unknown caller, the cellphone read, but the voice sounded _exceedingly_ familiar. He confirmed it for himself. "_Gwen_, this is Harold. Listen-"

I was fidgeting with my hair when I nearly dropped the phone-"_Harold_?"

On the other end there was this deep sigh.

"How exactly do you have my number?"

Harold held his breath as if the next thing he was about to say was big. "It's all over the internet. You're probably going to get about five hundred calls from now on."

"But how can so many people want to talk to _me_?" I was almost disgusted.

I could feel him shrugging. "Your fans, I guess."

"I don't get a word you're saying…"

"Turn your TV on to channel 17. And like, call back." With that he just hung up.

My heart was racing especially fast for something I didn't understand quite yet. My fingers fumbled with the remote as I pressed 'on' almost cautiously, with that slight feeling something was going to jump right at me.

I froze. I was looking right at me, on that screen.

Me from a few days ago, at Alexis' party…the day everything-or at least all that mattered to me-fell apart. And it was being broadcasted. For everyone to see. I was too shocked to be mad.

I nearly passed out at commercial. _Who…who would do such a thing?_

Quickly, I picked up my phone. Four hundred fifty-six missed calls. How could I have missed that many calls? In seven minutes too…seven minutes when I had muted my cell. I remembered what Harold said: _Your fans_. These calls were from my _fans_.

Ridiculous.

I dialed Harold's number, and after a ring he picked up. "I can't believe it. I absolutely, _cannot_ believe it!"

"Neither can I. Never knew Chris would stoop _that_ low."

"Chris-?" _Of course! Chris!_

Harold dropped his voice. "And just for the reminder…be careful...it's going to be just like on the island…we're _always_ being watched."

"Always…?" I trailed off as Trent walked into the room with his guitar, eyeing me suspiciously.

Suddenly something came over me. "Well, _sugarcakes_. I'll talk to you later, _alright_?" In my best flirtatious impression. I smirked, and hung up as soon as I heard a startled, 'what??'.

Trent stared at me in disbelief.

And for some sick reason, I enjoyed that. "Trent."

"Gwen." I ignored the fact his eyes looked absolutely gorgeous as he spoke to me. "Do you have any idea why I have about two hundred texts here calling me a heartless jerk?"

I shot him one last look as I turned away, and headed the other direction. "Haven't got the slightest of a clue."

And he watched me walk away, absolutely stunned.

* * *

_My name is Chris Maclean, if you forgot,_ a pause, again. _Tune in next week for a brand new episode of 'Where Are the Losers Now'! Twice the drama, twice the misery having to be experienced by our lovely ex-contestants, which of course, equals in twice the enjoyment! So remember- _The screen blacked out, static shriveling from the antennae.

"Aww. Not again."

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed! **

**Now, I'll be at a badminton camp during most of my 'writing hours' all this week, so don't expect an update until maybe Saturday. Thanks. **

**R&R please! And I want to know if anyone can guess the story behind this chapter's title. (:**


	11. Author's Note

**Ugh. I don't like writing author's notes (and yes, I am aware that I haven't yet, until this one), and I've been dreading the day 'til I'd had to write on. Just a little side note: I'll delete this when I get back. **

**From what, you ask?**

**Camping. First time, ever. This is huge for me, so, well, wish me luck! XD**

**I'm psyched, really, maybe more; I'll be going with alot of people, about thirty at least, and I'm close with at least a few so it's going to be real fun. The only thing is that I won't be able to update 'til I return on Tuesday, and right now I'm leaning more towards Wednesday or Thursday, 'coz it's most likely I'll be tired from laughing madly at the deads of the nights with my pals/cousins/sisters. :D**

**That means I won't be able to read either, and if you're on my author alerts, then it's highly likely I read and review all of your updates pretty quick. Alot can happen in the three days I will be gone, and I know for sure all my stories will be pushed back into at least the third page. xD So guys, I'll read and review when I get back. (:**

**I might get to write some STHD in my notebook while I'm there, maybe sneak a few in the public washrooms for some privacy (LOL), but I'm not that sure. I think I'll be doing most of my writing when I get back. **

**And yeah... that's pretty much it. Thanks for reading this if you did, and if you didn't, that's totally fine 'coz I doubt I would've either. XD **

**Also, if you have any questions, go ahead and ask. I'll still be here 'til tomorrow, until maybe eight am in my time...which I think is central, in Canadian, I guess? Not sure, not really good with that type of stuff. XD So anyways, I'll be here, sitting at my computer, for the next few hours. So, fire away? Lol. A few 'goodbyes' might be pretty cool too. (: **

**Okay, now I'm done. (: **

**- Trish**


	12. Pain, Guilt, and Whole Lot of Scratchin

**Yay! I finally finished. (:**

**But actually, this didn't take too long to write, I finished most of this today, and the rest, mostly yesterday. Which really, isn't bad at all. Considering a few chapters took a few good weeks. And wow, I was looking through some of my old work (the earlier chapters of STHD included) today, and I've gotta say modestly, I've improved. :D Or maybe I've just been writing lots. **

**So anyways. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I've been thinking too, this story should be at least 20-25 chapters once it's finished. So we're pretty much just halfway now. **

**Also, I haven't read through all this, so if something looks bad, sorry. :(**

* * *

_I got the itch; I got the;_

Itch, itch, itch, itch, itch,

I got ants in my pants; let's dance!

* * *

**Bridgette (Monday, 7:53am, Patterson residence)**

The clock ticked in a deliberate slow-motion and came to a halt as I picked up that slip of paper and stared at it for about the sixth time. In fact, time stopped altogether as I actually brought myself to read the first word printed on the note, and then it was just me, stuck in some sort of time-space continuum.

_Dear…_

Okay, so then I went onto the second word.

_Dear Bridgette. _

_First off, sorry it's me writing this, and not, well, you-know. He said he had plenty he needed to tell you, but he just couldn't bring himself to write them down. Weird. _

_I was sure it's because he's pretty bummed that we're leaving and all, but I don't know, he seems a lot more 'serious' than he should be. Did something happen while I was out souvenir-shopping? If you're willing to 'spill the beans', then you know how to contact me. _

…_._

_Wow, won't you look at the time! We've got to be at the airport in twenty minutes, tops. I'll tell you we had the option to board tomorrow's two o'clock flight, but Geoff seemed a little…__eager__ to leave. Something's really wrong with the guy, and something is definitely up. And if neither of you tell me, I'll be really ticked off. _

_As in, really ticked off. _

_Anyways, gotta run! So, toodles-ehm, I mean, bye!_

_- Cody (otherwise known as 'the Codmeister')_

_Oh, and PS: Tell DJ to google 'WATLN" on the web, and that he is a douchebag for not figuring that out earlier. And that I said hi. _

_PPS: YOU GOTTA TELL ME!!_

I felt a single tear drop, and splash slightly onto the piece of paper, muddling in with the black ink.

"Pass the milk, won't you, Bridgette?" I drew back at the realization I wasn't alone at the kitchen table, and quickly dabbed my cheek and set down the note.

My vision was blurred slightly, so I felt around for the milk carton. "Here, Dad." And a quick 'Bridgette' smile just to seem a little more convincing.

Dad poured some into his cereal and sipped from his coffee, then turned to me, who, trembled in her seat. "You know, sunshine, it was real damn good of you to invite those struggling boys in. They seemed pretty needy. Desperate too, I found a few fake 'staches in their guestrooms just this morning." He chuckled. "Like I was saying, really sweet of you. I'm proud. I've raised you so well."

"Gee…thanks, Dad." I flinched, and shot up, taking hold of the note and slipping it into my pocket, and grabbing my backpack to my left all at once. "But really, I should…" I swallowed. "I should get going."

He stared at me for awhile, then said finally, "Sure, Bridgette. You don't want to be late now, do you?"

I pulled him into a quick hug then scurried out the door.

* * *

You can walk down the street on any given day and you'll see a whole bunch of different people. They're complete strangers, but sometimes, somehow, you feel as if you know them. I mean, it's like you know so much about them. Like, there are little things. Little things that you can just randomly point out, and say, "Hey, he's wearing sneakers to work. Maybe he's a runner." And maybe if the person's wearing ones with those fantastic rubber soles you can add, "He's definitely a medalist at those marathons. Either that, or he's filthy rich."

Sometimes I wondered if certain strangers could stare at me for awhile and just guess my life story. Born six ounces, a natural surfer...broke the two hearts of two of the people that meant lots to me on the same night…

I guess it was just typical. It was just that-

They could probably tell. You could look into my eyes and see all the guilt, built up, and possibly never breaking down…

It was just too obvious.

* * *

The wind brushed against my skin, as I replayed our last conversation as we walked.

"_I'm so sorry!" He pulled her close. "I should've-"_

"_Go." She stared at me like he was crazy. "He's waiting for you."_

I held myself tighter as a bitter gust of air rushed by, chilling the bare spots of my upper half not being covered by my over-sized sweatshirt. My tears froze halfway as I stroked my cheek, then paused as I felt something unusual.

A bump. No, two. _Three._ After awhile I was scratching all over.

Panic. School starting in five minutes. Troubled Teen Experiencing An Unusual Case Of Chicken Pox In The Middle Of The Road.

Oh _no_.

"Bridgette!" I turned to face DJ, whose timing I couldn't have been more thankful for. "Watch out! _Car_; right behind ya!"

I jerked my attention to the flashing yellow and red headlights just several feet away, then dashed to safe-zone, not as overwhelmed as I thought I'd still be. But still itchy.

"Thanks. I owe you one." He looked down at me almost shocked, due to something along the lines of 'How can you be so optimistic when you could've died?'.

Then he noticed the bumps. "Ooh, you got it too? Good. Guess I'm not goin' crazy after all-"

I tugged on his arm and held on as we scampered our way to the end of the sidewalk. "Don't want to be late, now, do we?"

* * *

**Trent (Monday, 2:30pm, Claywood Studios)**

_All of a sudden, all eyes turned to me. Then to her. _

"_Gwen," I choked out a second time. I never meant for this to happen. Never meant to be caught. _

_She stared, her eyes widened. There was pain, a lot, something I felt completely responsible for. _

"_Gwen!" I repeated as she darted out the door, not taking the slightest of a look back, as the people in her way stepped back. The piercing sound of the metal doors slamming shut rung in my ears, and I hated myself for not deciding to run after her sooner._

_A voice piped up as I also felt someone grab hold of my shoulder. "It's too late Trent. You've already lost her."_

_Alexis' retort caught me off guard. _

"_Maybe you just don't understand how much she means to me…" I whispered, but loud enough so she could here it all clearly. _

_She let the words sink in, and she paused for a bit to think. "Say…tell me again. The _real_ reason she wanted you to come visit..." I could feel her smirking from behind. _

_I froze, as I realized what she meant. _

"_I'm sure she just-"_

_Alexis cut in. "-wanted to prove that I was wrong? Well, I wasn't anyway. I mean, you guys aren't even together, are you?"_

"_We are…" I felt more and more unsure the more I said it. _

"_Well if you were _that_ together, she'd know you were out here tonight…" she chortled out a laugh. "I mean, _really._"_

* * *

"Mr. Wesley!" Alexis tossed her hair over her shoulder and held out her hand. "Thank you _so much_ for letting us come in today."

The man, who stood almost 6 feet high and was dressed in a semi-casual suit, grinned like an idiot. "Don't allow me to take credit. You _own_ the place, for god's sakes. And at the very least your father does, and that counts for something, am I correct?"

She flashed her impossibly white set of teeth. "There are some benefits."

"And who is your friend, Ms. Claywood?" I flinched at the realization he meant me.

Alexis beamed harder. "Trent Barbosa. The promising musician I was telling you about, George." Her expression dropped as she saw me, just standing there, scratching the back of my neck. She kicked the back of my shin, and I yelped. As quiet as someone could while also being taken by the element of surprise.

"_Trent_." She insisted, taking deep, quick breaths.

I felt my leg to see if it was still there. "But it was _itchy_."

She looked like she was about to add something when she remembered Mr. Wesley was still standing in front of us. Coughing. "Trent! I had no _idea_ you noticed my new fourteen-karat necklace! You're so sweet! _Sickeningly_ sweet," she added, then turned her attention to him and smiled.

"Right this way," and he gestured us to the room across the million-dollar hall, grinning like a mad idiot again.

Alexis followed swiftly after, and I trailed last.

Scratching the back of my neck.

* * *

I stiffened in a straight position, trying to tend to every sore spot while also trying to hold my guitar in place.

Mr. Wesley lowered his eyes toward me, but then again, you couldn't tell, since he wore these thick dark sunglasses, and was also standing behind the other wall. "You know, kid, you're doing extremely well, considering you haven't played a thing."

Alexis tapped her foot impatiently, and responded with a grunt. "Give him some time, he's probably-"

"Can I go to the washroom?" I asked sort of spontaneously, but I did need a break. From…sitting here.

He shot a look at Alexis, who gave a quiet irritated sigh. "Sure, kid." And he looked at me a second time, through the glass, and walked towards the door separating me and everything else and opened it. "Two minutes."

* * *

The first thing I did was lock the door.

And then I stared at the million-dollar mirror, surprised it didn't crack when I saw my reflection.

Spots, everywhere. I gaped. No way, no way, no way-

How? Why?

Why me?

I stared back up, and sighed, partly relieved. At least my hair still looked okay.

Footsteps came from down the hall, one set of heavy ones, one set of light. "Barbosa? Barbosa, are you in there?"

I sat crouched on the floor, scratching the one of my nose.

Ten minutes past.

But I knew I couldn't sit here forever. I knew I couldn't escape from all my troubles still out there…behind this door.

Suddenly I felt her name escape from my lips. "Gwen."

* * *

**Sadie (Monday, 3:07pm, enclosed between four walls of pink everything)**

Dear Diary,

I don't even know why I'm writing in you anymore, honestly. Like, it seems as I would've lost interest ever since Katie and I have split up, and there's nothing to write about anymore, considering all I've ever written in here are mostly of what special edition flavors of ice cream Katie and I had today, and so on. And mostly every entry would be only a few words like, "Katie had cherry and I had peanut butter EEEEEEEEE!"

But I guess I've changed since then.

And so I'm just lying here, skipping school. Sick. It's like I have the chicken pox or something. If that was the case, this would be like, my fourth time. And second's were supposed to be, _rare_, right?

Weird.

So yeah, I might as well explain my week. I guess it hasn't been too bad, and I'm not even that hurt anymore.

See, just last week I joined a few extra curriculum classes, and Katie bought herself a motorcycle. Or at least that's what they say. I'm betting every ice cream flavor in the universe she stole it.

Well I told you, things have changed a great deal.

I don't even know why she's mad at me, the reasons she said she was sounded a little…silly. But I don't care. I'm staying mad at her for as long as she stays mad at me. And I'm not apologizing first. But I'm hoping she does soon…

But like I said, I don't care! Not at all! NOT ONE BIT.

YOU KNOW WHAT, DIARY? I'M TOTALLY OKAY.

AND YOU CAN'T TELL ME I'M NOT, BECAUSE YOU KNOW WHAT? YOU CAN'T TALK.

……argh, itchy again. See ya.

Lots of love, Sadie (:

* * *

I bent down, sneezed, and scratched my arm. With my free hand I picked up the remote and switched channels. Katie and I always used to love the dramas-we'd watch them together and cry during them all the time. But from now on, I decided I'd try out some documentaries.

Ugh. They're so _boring_.

Oh well, I sighed, then grabbed the large bowl of popcorn sitting on my night-table, and discovered it was empty. Just crumbs, I realized, feeling them between my fingers.

I yawned, then slipped out of bed, and made my way down the stairs. Once I got to the kitchen I opened the cupboards, and popped a package into the microwave, watching the remaining seconds on the clock.

Suddenly I heard someone bang against the glass, and after freaking out for a few minutes and finally calming down enough to check it out, I saw it.

I mean, _him_. Of course, I had absolutely no idea _he _was, but…he was a man, lying on the patio unconscious, holding a camera in his hands…

Which meant _something _at the very least, right?

* * *

**DJ (Monday, 3:30pm, New Westminster High)**

"_So_…douchebag, huh?"

Bridgette nodded. "Yeah. And _hey_, that's coming from him, not me, okay?"

I laughed as we walked. "I know, I know. None taken at all. One thing though: How exactly did Cody hear about the little problem I had?"

Bunny popped out of my pocket and landed on her head as she froze suddenly. She bit her lip. "Oh…well, you know, _Cody_. He probably just guessed."

"True."

The day just seemed to go by at school. It was all awkward at first, since I was scratching like an idiot during the first half. But then Bridgette discovered a cure- Diet Coke.

She sighed as she stared far down the hall, then glanced back at me. "We're heading to the computer lab right? I'm a little curious about the results too…my computer broke down and-"

"Actually, I was thinking the TV room. It's where I found the tape. I'm hoping we could find something in there."

Bridgette smirked. "Smart thinking, chief."

I tipped an invisible hat and replied in an equally stupid accent, "Expect anything else?"

She rolled her eyes as we walked a couple more feet.

Then it hit me. "Bridgette…sorry if it's private or something, but I heard about what happened between you…and…" I gulped, afraid saying the last thing would get to her. "Matt."

Her footsteps came to a stop. "You're right, DJ, it _is_ private."

"Sorry," I whispered. "Didn't mean it that way. It was kinda unexpected, that's all. You two seemed pretty tight."

Then she replied back, so quietly I could've sworn she was just talking to herself: "I didn't expect it either."

* * *

She grabbed hold of the doorknob at the end of the hall, and asked, one more time, "Are you sure no one's around?"

"Yes, Bridgette," I repeated for about the twelfth time.

Slowly, she twisted the doorknob about halfway. "Really, _really_ sure? Because if _anyone_ catches us in there, we're going to be in _real_ big trouble. _Infinitely_, big trouble."

I looked both ways just to humor her. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure."

"Okay then." She turned the leftover 180 degrees.

I went in first, switched on the lights, and took a good look around the room. Two rows of thirty-inch television screens arranged at the back, and a few storage cabinets were attached to the nearest wall. Then all of a sudden, Bridgette screamed.

"DJ…_DJ, _come over here, _please_." Without a second thought, okay, maybe a _third_, I turned to her direction, and took a good look at the tape in her hands. She stayed frozen.

The tape read, WATLN – _Bridgette_.

Suddenly we heard a grunt, seeming to me out of nowhere. "Hehe. Haven't seen you rugrats in so long!"

Someone grabbed both of us from behind. Okay, so maybe not _nowhere_.

* * *

"You won't get away with this!" Bridgette, although held back, hollered at Chef. Apparently she had already caught on.

I still pretty much didn't get it.

Chef chuckled, and he leaned in closer to her. "We already have, Malibu."

She gritted her teeth. "I have a name, you know."

"'course you do. I wrote it on the tape." He sneered, then revealed his walkie talkie from his right apron pocket. "Boss, got the two scoundrels just like you wanted. Sharp as always, you, they _did_ figure it out."

Buzzing from the other end. Sounded like something 'modest'.

"Yeah, yeah. No big deal. As long as this week's paycheck-"

Bridgette bit the lower arm of the large man grasping on to her. Hard. She broke free at first, but was caught once again. "Ugh! This is completely wrong! As teenagers we have rights!"

Whoever's voice was on the other end paused and listened. Then seemed to have whispered one last thing to Chef, before hanging up.

He smirked. "Well, kids, it looks like you'll be comin' with me now." Chef gestured for the men to release us, then entered the nearby helicopter, instructing us to follow.

A little scared about the consequences, I immediately walked in, and Bridgette, who appeared to have given up, took the seat next to me, and the other two came after, reserving the two backseats.

Chef pulled down a lever. And in seconds we were high up.

"Where's he taking us?" I trembled, staring down at the buildings and dots for people below. Bridgette leaned back in her recliner, crossing her arms.

"That's not the question to ask, DJ. The question we should be asking is 'why exactly did we just walk into a helicopter and let some obsessed crook whisk us off to nowhere?'."

I could only say one word back. "Oh."

* * *

**...hope you guys enjoyed. Personally I think this one came out pretty well. Hope not too many of you got bothered by the repetitive use of 'itch' and 'scratch'. I know I did. **

**And so...I know there will be questions about this chapter so don't hesitate to ask. And R&R. Thanks guys!**


	13. Coffee, Car Rides, and Cigarettes

**I'm SO glad I was able to finish it today! With homework piling up and stuff, I figured it'd get pretty unlikely I would later on. How's school treating you guys?**

**(As you can see, I am obviously running out of things to say in author notes.)**

**So anyways, I bring you Chapter 12 (technically, haha)! Hope you guys enjoy as much as I did writing it! :'D**

**POVS: Owen, Harold, Ezekiel, Courtney, and Heather.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI. **

* * *

_-- Bridgette blew her nose-loud-then stroked her eye, before staring back at the host, in this creepy-determined way. "Keep going, Chris. And don't you dare leave a word out."_

* * *

**Owen (Monday, 6:47pm; Maclean's 'sort of' Secret Lair)**

Chris Maclean raised his porcelain tea cup (imported from the Indonesian Islands), pinky held up, and took dainty sips, before announcing finally, "Okay. So you're allowed to speak now."

And at that very moment I'll tell you, all hell broke lose.

Or, at least…on Bridgette's side.

"How could you? Even _I _never thought you'd stoop this low! You can't just whisk us over here like it's nothing! We have rights! It's stated in the Youth Individual Ethics-and guess what-you are not permitted to just whisk us off over here like it's nothing!"

Maclean glanced over at me, "Is…the blonde chick done yet?"

I shrugged.

Bridgette sighed, and slunk deeper into her seat, deciding she might as well shut up since no one really bothered to listen. "Well, Chris, the least you can do is explain, you know. If you're sticking with the movies, this is the part where you reveal your evil plans."

"Correct." A flash of perfect teeth that must've cost him half his earnings. "Well as you already know, Chef and I have recently started up a new show. 'Where Are the Losers Now?', top ten in the ratings, and we're inching closer to top spot every week. Actually," he chuckled. "I'm surprised it took you _this_ long to figure out!"

DJ looked uncomfortable. Bridgette tried to break free from the ropes, and didn't look too impressed. "And him," she stuck a finger towards me, "what does _Owen _have to do with any of this? Did you take _him_ under hostage too?"

At times like this, when you actually sort of need it, it's hard pretending you don't know anything about it.

Chris laughed as if he heard a joke. "Ha, seriously? No, Bridgette, _Owen_, is my _co-host_."

I felt daggers on me for the rest of the day. Something I never really expected from Bridgette, but then again, I'd never seen her _mad_ before.

"But he wouldn't just betray us like that!" She spat out.

Chef looked at Chris, who looked back at Chef, who found a box of tissue sitting on the coffee table in front of them. "I think she needs a moment," announced Maclean, handing her a Kleenex.

Bridgette blew her nose-loud-then stroked her eye, before staring back at the host, in this creepy-determined way. "Keep going, Chris. And don't you dare leave a word out."

"Okay, good," he smirked. "I was afraid I'd have to deal with yet another sob story today. You see, the guy at the sushi bar cried on my shoulder earlier today. Apparently his cat died this morning. It was touching, but anyway, we've already seen yours."

DJ passed her a nervous smile. _You don't think…?_

He went on. "So the main thing you're wondering about should be why you're here. Well, that's because-you guessed it!-you figured it out. And why, should someone as relaxed and cheerful and nothing-will-go-wrong as me bother worrying about _that_?"

No one had an answer.

Maclean pounded on the table, drawing a few gasps. "It's simply because, you knew. You know. Now you could've just ran to the court and suggested this invasion of your privacy? No. We can't allow that. They'd shut down our show. They'd shut down our top-of-the-ratings, fast-cash making, freakin' _show_!"

He stopped-for the dramatic effect-then took a small, delicate sip of his tea. "I have to say, the hint of cinnamon blended in is quite tasty."

DJ sighed, slumping his broad shoulders. "So…are we done yet? Can we go home now?"

Chris frowned. "No! You think now's a good time? Now that we've told you everything? Well, no! You two will be sticking around base until the time comes. It'll sort of be like, house arrest. But different. So I've already contacted both your parents. Said you were going on a last-minute school vacation-completely free-and they bought _every word_."

"That's funny." We all looked over at Bridgette. "You're a funny guy, you know, Chris. It's not like we can't _call_ the authorities, or anything."

"Actually. That's why we only use pay-phones around here. That only work using 'Chris-coins'. A hundred each if you happen to want one. Plus there's a regular phone machine in my office, which is heavily guarded most of the time. And Bridgette," he turned to Bridgette, who was currently punching random buttons on her cellphone, "those don't work in here."

She put down the device, and screamed.

* * *

"You think we were a little harsh?"

Chris grinned. "Not at all, Owen. Why, ya think so?"

I frowned. "Huh. Well, nothing new I guess. Just wondering, really."

"I see." He took a seat at his usual studio area, and glanced at screen six. Blank. "Hmm. Weird."

"Anything wrong, Chris?" I walked over, then stared up, to what he was looking at. "Hey, that is weird. Why's that screen blank? Whose is it, anyway?"

Maclean took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. "It's Tyler's. According to what it says here," he gestured over to the separate monitor. "He hasn't been filmed since the show started. I _can't _believe we haven't noticed this before! It says we can't _find_ him."

For Chris, this was plenty bad news. _Where the heck was he? We could lose money! _

"Oh," I said after awhile, before heading back to my room, leaving Maclean to his own thoughts.

* * *

_-- Coffee tastes better **raw.**_

* * *

**Harold (Tuesday, 3pm; Hudson Bay Café)**

"Can you believe her? I say her name fits too-Garbage? Could've never thought of a better match! And Harold? Can you tell me why she's one of the Rejects anyway? I've noticed how we're all about promoting peace and all that, but first impressions-she's dangerous. And she smells bad. Why-"

I drew a deep sigh. "Seriously, we all smell bad. It's not like-"

Zeke didn't look too convinced. I went on.

"Besides, maybe we like, tough girls? She wasn't accepted much anywhere else so we took her in," I breathed heavy. "And 'Garbage' really isn't that bad once you get to know her. It's really just her middle name...it's what she wants to be called."

He sighed. "Alright, eh. Whatever. Now, what was it you had to tell me? Some 'secret' meeting, extra Reject training, need some groceries, what?"

I looked twice-both ways-across the room, "Okay, but remember-you can't tell _anyone_."

"Got it," he sipped from his coffee. "But honestly, bro? I really doubt it's that big. I mean-"

Something flicked. "You don't get it, do you?" I whispered sharply, with emphasis on every word. "Look around you! Do you think _everyone_ in this room's just here for a croissant, or a latte' or a-"

At that point, I realized we had the whole room staring at us, either slightly offended or just curious. Zeke realized this too, and gulped. "Keep it down, will you? Now, what is it?"

"Ezekiel, I think we're being _watched_-"

A girl around our age, possibly older, chose this moment to strut over to our table. She brushed a lock of hair from her cheek, and pulled out a notebook, grinning. I looked over at Ezekiel, who, seemed hardly interested with what else I had to say any longer (or to begin with, anyway), but a lot more interested with the girl in front.

I swear, he like, fainted the second she said: "Hi, may I take your order?"

* * *

_-- And she walked, no, **floated** across the room, like a goddess, with golden-_

_"Seriously? I think you've lost it."_

* * *

**Ezekiel (Tuesday, 3:11pm; Huson Bay Café)**

And then: "Hi, I'm Jenny, and I'll be your server for today."

Harold coughed. "Actually, we already ord-"

I gaped at him, before turning back to the pretty lady, with the widest smile I could come up with, "Oh, no! Harold here, he's such a kidder, haha." He stared at me, his mouth wide open.

She smiled. "That's good," she held out her hand, which I eagerly shook, "So, you two in highschool, or something?"

Harold nodded. "Yep. Senior year. It's…exciting. I guess."

"So I'm guessing you guys attend that school around the block. That was some of the best years of my life. Highschool in general, you better enjoy it, because soon it'll be over. Too bad, woulda loved to stick around, but sometimes, you just got to move forward, right?" Jenny spaced out, frowning, before placing her grin back in place.

I swallowed. "You mean, you're not-" Harold jabbed my elbow.

"In highschool anymore, you mean?" She laughed. "I wish. Started university a couple years back, hoping to end up with an English major. Is there a problem?"

"N-not at all!" Looking stupid in front of an angel would be like breaking the law.

Jenny took our order.

Or at least, Harold's. I, on the other hand, didn't pay much attention to _that._

"I'll be right back." And so she left and slipped into the kitchen at the back, leaving me still sitting there, praying she'd come back.

Harold shook his head.

"What?" I shrugged then turned back to my thoughts. Her hair, her eyes, her-Wait. Wasn't there something Harold needed to tell me again? Something super important that he insisted I had to know? Huh.

Jenny. Her name stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

* * *

_-- Temporary insanity  
What's going on with you and me? _

_- Alexz Johnson_

* * *

**Courtney (Tuesday, 5:30pm; Nook's Pub)**

"Cigarette, miss?"

I looked up, and suddenly met contact with that intimidating man I was just _so_ lucky to happen to sit next to. "No thanks," and when he looked at me like I was joking and held it out for me a second time: "I don't smoke, sorry."

He gave me an apologetic smile, and I swallowed hard, hoping I didn't offend him. Like, _really_ offend him. I went pale and drank from someone else's tall glass of water, feeling every more bit uncomfortable having to wait at this deathtrap. _Where is he?_

"Well, that's just what to expect from a young woman quite like yourself, huh? 'mean, when I just offered ya a cigarette 'cha looked like ya saw a ghost!" And you know what? He _laughed_.

My eyes narrowed. It wasn't my fault I happened to be very concerned about my health-

"And," the man, who I then noticed had a completely tattooed right arm, went on. "'s pretty unusual someone like you'd hang around these parts…so tell me, whatcha doin' _here_, now, miss?"

What _was_ I doing here? Trying to get myself killed, or worse, if _anything_? Oh yeah, I was waiting for Duncan, who you know, promised he'd meet me here over half an hour ago. I made a mental note to get him back later, if I lived to _see_ a _later_.

I stalled. "Well, if you must now, I'm waiting for my b- …I mean, my fr-" Wait, I don't consider him as my friend either now, do I? "My Duncan. I'm waiting for my…_Duncan_." Okay, so maybe that didn't come out right either. Ugh.

Tattoo man grinned. "_Your _Duncan, eh? Funny, I ran into someone named 'Duncan' a little while ago…said that if I happened to meet a lovely young lady with brown hair I ought to keep 'er entertained 'til he comes back…a few more minutes. He said he's gotta do stuff."

I flinched. Duncan. Of course that meant, _illegal_ stuff.

* * *

My phone rang, just when I decided to head to the washroom. First few thoughts that entered my mind: 1) Who in the world dares to interrupt this…this _emergency _of mine, and 2) Why? Why now? Why here? What do they want from me?

I glanced at the name printed on the small screen, resisting the urge to panic.

_Mom. _Okay, well that pretty much answered all my questions.

And I'll tell you, it took plenty of nerve to take that call. I knew I was in big trouble, and for the sake of my reputation, 'Courtney' and 'trouble' should've never been put in the very same sentence to begin with.

But all that was behind me now. I mean, the police are after me, and that itself says everything.

I told myself to suck it up, as I held the phone to my ear, wincing. "Hello?"

"Young lady, where the hell do you think you are?" Just when I thought the conversation was going to turn out well. "I've been worried sick about you! You haven't turned up for three days now! I was just thinking about going to the police about this-"

"No! Mom, you _can't_. I'm alright, okay?" I swallowed, grasping the device firmly between my fingers. A pause. "I'm fine….so, you don't have to worry about me…"

She didn't seem too convinced. "Courtney! Tell me where you are; I'll go get you. And by the way, you are so grounded when we get back."

"I'll take whatever you throw at me when I do, but for now…I-I can't…"

"What? Surely you can, I bet-"

I glanced over roughly fifteen feet away, slipping from the reality of the conversation itself. "I'm in good hands, I'm telling you again-don't worry," I cringed as I said, but for some reason, mothers always needed that extra bit of reassurance. "Bye, mom."

"Wait! Courtney! Young lady you are-" I hung up with a sigh, then turned my attention back straight ahead.

Duncan, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets-smirked as he noticed me approaching. "Took you long enough, princess. You had me waiting all day."

I came closer and jabbed his arm, satisfied as he struggled sideways. "You _pig_."

* * *

"Get in the car, sunshine," he urged, meaning his dad's old Toyota, parked behind the building, hidden between an alleyway. His father, and that Spike guy?-I noticed, were no where in sight.

Duncan brought it up before I could ask-"They went ahead. Hitched a ride with someone they recognized. And you know what dad told me before they went off? Apparently before he was a cop, he was one of the bad guys. Pretty ironic, huh? So then I start freaking out, because what if that's me, twenty years from now?"

"You know, Duncan, that actually wouldn't be so bad..." I smirked, crossing my arms with a lopsided expression. "So tell me, where have you been?"

And yet he repeated: "Get in the car."

"So give me one good reason why I should," I shot back, with no intention of obeying him, anyway. "And you didn't answer my question."

He clutched my shoulders and pulled me closer, gripping tight. "They found us princess. Spent a few figuring out their plans. We got 'a whole bunch of RCMP covering the area. They're out getting doughnuts right now, but pretty soon they'll see us and go 'Hey, aren't those the exact two we were looking for?' Do you want that, Courtney?"

My real name. Duncan hadn't called me by Courtney since…when, really? "I didn't-"

Suddenly he leaned forward, pushing me gently back against the rear, then bent down, and kissed me.

* * *

It lasted approximately two point fifty-six seconds. In the end, he got me in the car before taking the driver's seat, leading us to wherever the road would take us, hoping it wasn't prison.

I barely noticed we were moving.

* * *

_-- Am I going insane?_

* * *

**Heather (Wednesday, 1:26pm; passing Dewdney Avenue)**

"So, should we review over the plans again?"

From line two, Lewshana frowned. "Oh, n-no way! Heather, you've said it eight times 'ready…think I pretty much got it memorized, and anyway, I'm tired a'hearing you speak, mhmm. Lindsey, how 'bout you? Got it covered?"

I snarled as line 3 piped up. "Wait, what were we talking about again-ohhh! I'm not that sure…I mean, yeah, of course I do!" The reception was bad, but I was dead positive it went something exactly like that. Lindsey paused. "Umm. That _is_what you wanted me to say, right Lequisha?"

Two points for the damsel in red. Take _that_, Lewshana_._

"Fine," I smirked. "It's simple enough anyway if you use right words-we'll cover as much of the city as we can, looking for whatever trace we can find of him. Leave no inch uncovered, we'll meet back at Tim's at three, and share our findings. Got it? We can_not_ let him get away."

"Sounds good to me." She'd hate to admit that, I could tell.

Lindsey replied, "Okay."

"Perfect," I stated, peering closer into the walkie-talkie. "Three o'clock then, it's settled."

A lot of buzzing from the other end. High-pitched squeals. I took a guess Lindsey found a quarter sitting on the sidewalk. "Omigosh, I just have to take it _home_!"

Psh. She had plenty of those waiting for her in the bank. Credit cards, anyway.

I shook my head, then started down the street, absorbing every detail. Two boutiques to my left, seven cars that had passed. Thirteen cracks that I'd stepped on. Bad luck, honestly, what of it?

"Hey lady, you lost?" A truck pulled to a random stop next to me, and the driver had rolled down his window.

I rolled my eyes; obviously this man didn't have a clue who he was speaking to? "I know where I'm going perfectly, thank you very much."

"Alright then," he shrugged, before speeding away, smoke popping out of the exhaust. I coughed, grimacing as I also continued on forward, slipping back into detective mode.

But first…_jerk_.

Ten minutes later, I felt a breeze pass. It chilled parts of my neck, and suddenly, I'd wished I'd brought a scarf. Ha! The thought of sporting a scarf in the middle of September; _you're losing it, Heather_.

Pushing all that away, I bent forward to reach for that slip of paper that came up the same time the chill ended. My eyes widened on the last few words. Up 'til then it'd meant nothing but all, but now… _N-no.._

I stood up, then felt for the walkie-talkie in my pocket, bringing it up to my ear. "Ch-change of plans. Lewshana, you think you can drive by Dewdney Avenue and pick me up..?"

* * *

"And you really think…?" Lewshana raised an eyebrow, peering at the rearview mirror.

I stuck my head half out the window, slightly irritated by the rate we were going. I mean, Lewshana, big, loud _Lewshana_. Who would've thought she drives a mere 20km an hour? I had every right to be irritated, if you ask me. "Yes. YES. I told you that didn't I? Like what, three minutes ago?"

"Sheesh. Just asking." She shrugged, and just when I started to tame myself down, she throws another one at me: "So tell me, Heather; why you so obsessed with gettin' him back? I mean-"

"Honestly, Lewshana, and promise your oversized _butt_ you won't tell-I'm doing this for Lindsey." I took a sigh, watching her gape at me from a side glance.

Lewshana kept her eyes on the road as she whispered, "Heather, is it me? Or are you becomin' _soft_?"

"I know." I pulled out as we reached a stop, passing one last look before heading up the steps, sneaking a look at the home's address, comparing it with the one of the slip of paper.

_3627 Wascana Street; it's the house with the red roof. _

_- Tyler West. _

This must be the place.

* * *

**Sorry if anything seemed a little OC to you...I was just a little to eager to finish. :P I already have some ideas for Chapter 13 (technically), so you won't have to wait exceedingly long for an update. (If you end up having too, feel free to send hate mail encouraging me to do so). **

**XD R&R, guys, thanks!**


	14. Phone Calls, Emails, Secrets Attached

****

I finally got over a bad writer's block and was suddenly inspired to finish most of it during the last few days. xD I REALLY love how this one came out. I find it alot more serious than some of the others, for some reason, so I apologize in advance. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. (:

**Note: Lately, I've been obsessed with incorporating song lyrics into my stories. Warning in advance. ;D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI.**

* * *

."_To be honest, I really doubt you would've fulfilled that. Nothing changes, huh?"_

_Tyler thought for a bit. "Well, yeah."_

* * *

**Heather (Wednesday, 2:17pm; **_**'this keeps getting weirder'**_**)**

The second I rang the bell, the door swung wide open.

"I didn't think you'd come," said the voice-out-of-nowhere, as I walked inside and scanned my surroundings, making sure I'd be able to walk out later.

I put down my purse and smirked. "Normally I don't waste opportunities like this."

"Oh, alright," the voice seemed more familiar, less sure in a way. "Have a seat."

With slight caution, I noted the two armchairs in the center of the room, with the hundred-year old coffee table in between. I took the seat closest to the window, just incase it had to come to that.

I felt a cool breeze pass by me. I guess it was less of a coincidence now. "Want anything to drink?"

"Tea would be nice. With two iced cubes, please." I raised an eyebrow as the cool breeze drifted away, and a light flickered in what seemed to be the kitchen.

Later I found a chipped teacup on a saucer sitting on the table in front of me, and I felt a sudden presence at the second chair. It seemed sad.

Then it spoke. "It sucks you know, what happened to me."

"I know."

A long silence followed after. "I don't think you do."

"It's happened to me before," I announced, and at that moment, I wished I could've seen the look on his face. And so, I took my first sip. "Five years ago. Around summertime."

"Huh. I'm not so sure I can believe you. And it's totally freaking me out how we're having a decent conversation that doesn't involving getting me voted off." It shivered, if that's even possible.

I rolled my eyes. "That was on the show, Tyler. I'm a changed person now."

"Is that so?"

I took a deep breath, a large impatience growing inside of me. "Whatever. Now, you can start with telling me why you locked us in the janitor's closet..? Last Wednesday? Why'd you do that?"

This time, Tyler didn't know what to say.

--

"You said you know how it feels, right? To feel so invisible? I mean, for real, like, really invisible?" He said finally, once he thought up of an answer. "Well, same goes for me. I heard the rumors going around school. I wanted to let you guys know I haven't disappeared altogether, and I couldn't find some other way to do it."

I took three more sips of glory. Finally, I got to him.

"And those punks you brought with you? Lindsey said she saw actual people," I asked, trying to write it all down in my head.

He laughed. "They're afraid of me. Can you imagine that? They're afraid I'll sneak up behind them or something. So they agreed. To help me out, and in return, they got their butts saved."

"To be honest, I really doubt you would've fulfilled that. Nothing changes, huh?"

Tyler thought for a bit. "Well, yeah."

"Good, now I can get going." I grabbed my purse and started towards the exit, when he stopped me.

"Tell her I'm coming back, okay?"

I turned around, and sighed. "Chances of it happening are three to a thousand. Chances it'll go away are three to a million."

"I'm beating the odds. I'm going to come back."

Then for the first time ever, I felt slightly envious of Lindsey. "I will."

And I walked out.

* * *

_.But you won't take away my pride,  
__No not this time,  
__Not this time._

**- Decode, Paramore.**

* * *

**Sadie (Wednesday, 4pm; staring at the phone, **_**'can this paranoia can any worse?'**_**)**

I'm guessing not.

--

_FROM THE DIARIES OF SADIE Q. HAMILTON - 09/15/08._

At any other situation, I would've been hysterical. But as I felt his pulse, or rather, that lack _of_ it, I finally came to the conclusion: _Oh_, he's dead.

I panicked. Okay, so now what?

My eyes hovered over to the telephone behind me. It seemed to stand out from everything else. I decided to think about my other options.

I could…

Just leave him there. In my backyard, you know, where someone would easily find him. No, I was better than that.

So maybe I was running blank on ideas. Didn't mean I had to-

The phone rang. Panic. Again. What if it was someone he knew? Asking if I'd seen him anywhere, sort of out of the blue? I liked to think he was just asking for a cup of sugar, forgot which side was the front of the house, and brought a camera to take a picture of me, when I would've given him the cup of sugar, because I'm just that nice. Instead of…ew. Weird thought.

What if it was the police?

Unintentionally, I slapped the phone off its dock, watching it bounce off the kitchen floor. "Hello?"

But it wasn't the police's voice. It was Katie's.

I'd been waiting for her call all week, but I didn't want to seem all excited, when I picked up the phone, slightly reassured, but not by much: "Oh, it's you."

"Haha, funny. You know why I called."

Well, I thought I did. But judging by that pretty sarcastic tone of voice? Suddenly I wasn't too sure. "No, tell me."

Katie rolled her eyes. For some reason I could totally picture that, "You have my history book, remember? I let you borrow it when we were still…ugh, _friends_."

I felt a lurch in my stomach.

She stomped her foot. "Look, it's rightfully mine, okay? I have every right to demand it back, and, wait, _hello_?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not giving it back."

From the other line, her jaw dropped. Since lately, she'd been used to being the bigger person. She wasn't, and I wasn't going to give in any longer. "Sadie-" she insisted, sounding more than the Katie I knew.

But that wasn't going to work on me. "I'm sorry, but right now I have a dead body in my backyard and usual teenage crisis to deal with. So bye."

I hung up, feeling proud and relieved and ashamed all at the same time. _--_

_--_

That night I'd buried the body before my parents could see. I was quiet over dinner, afraid it'd be brought up suddenly, but we talked about other things instead. They did ask about the big dent on the glass door leading to the back. I shrugged, and switched the topic to the extra flavor Mom put in the pasta and then, the elections and dirty politics.

Today, after school, I played the tape. It was something that had been bugging me for awhile. Like, what was the man holding the camera for anyway?

So I popped popcorn, reserved the spot near the TV in my room for me (obviously), and watched:

The feud at the cafeteria, the second feud by the lockers, me and Katie-BFFFLs before all that happened, and then me, in the kitchen, right before the incident.

I couldn't help but notice that they all had to do with me.

* * *

_.Waiting for your,  
Call I'm sick, call I'm angry;  
Call I'm desperate for your voice_

**- Your Call, Secondhand Serenade**

* * *

**Geoff (Wednesday, 5:30pm; **_**'Location: Unspecified, I think I've lost track. I don't care much, anyway.'**_**)**

Well, we're back home now. And as much as I thought that would've helped, you know, a little…let's just get straight to the point: It's dead freezing and it's the middle of September, I don't have much of a jacket, and I'm feeling just slightly crappier than before.

Not by much, though. It's been going on for awhile.

I carried further. I was probably miles and miles gone by now. They'd be waiting-mom, dad, my brothers, wondering where I was, wondering why I hadn't called. But that didn't matter yet, for now I just needed to get away.

Later I felt a single raindrop drop on my shoulder. Nothing came after that. Just that one, out of a possible forty million.

_It's playing on repeat, just like when we would meet, like when we would meet_

--

"Mister, mister!" Twelve minutes later, came little footsteps, trying to keep up behind me. I stopped.

"You dropped your hat." She seemed relieved, and with a sigh, handed it back. "It's a really nice hat, sir. I wouldn't try losing if I were you."

The girl couldn't have been older than seven. Blonde hair, brown eyes. I froze, while she looked up and smiled. "Momma used to say I shouldn't give my name out to strangers, but, eh….I'm Bridgette. What's your name, sir?"

My head spun. "I-it's Geoff."

"That's a nice name, Geoff. Say, how would you like an ice cream cone?" Bridgette grinned, tugging my sleeve towards the deserted vendor about a block away.

"I don't know," I hesitated back, and she continued her direction. "It's kind of weird, don'tcha think? Besides, you should better get back to your mom before she starts to worry about you-"

"My mom died three years ago," she said quietly.

I froze. "I'm sorry."

Bridgette nodded.

"Do you want to sit down for awhile?" I bent down and took both her shoulders, brushing a single blonde lock away from her face.

She shook her head and announced finally, very seriously, "No, I want to get ice cream."

"Alright then," and I dug a few quarters from my left pocket.

--

We got our cones-chocolate for me and she chose strawberry-and headed down to the beach, barefoot.

The waves crashed beneath our feet and puddles of melted cream dribbled onto our T-shirts. The sun withdrew from the clouds, then lowered, painting plenty new shades of orange into the sky.

It felt different. Better.

I shot up, panting breathlessly. I sat upright, putting my fingers to my forehead, trying not to forget whatever happened. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Only a dream.

Yet it was the best one I'd ever had.

* * *

_.She seemed shocked, and said it as if rehearsed (on the contrary, it was), "Will that be it? No foot massages, no special appointments, nothing?"_

_One nod. Two nods. A headnod._

* * *

**Justin (Wednesday, 6:07; rooftop, with that amazing view. **_**'Oh, how I'd kill to be me. Oh wait, I am.'**_**)**

They say I'm a man of a few words. Which is true I guess, since most people only need one look at me to remember, _Oh, he's gorgeous. He can totally get away with that._

I leaned back into my recliner and smiled. That alone kept me going. The world needed its daily dose of Just-In. Speaking of which, when I switched on the rooftop television,

"This just in," said the woman on channel 24, "One of the smaller aircrafts from the Ridgeside airport, New Brunswick, crashed two minutes ago. Sources say that a red-headed teenager, supposedly drunk, took over the plane and attempted to steer it all the way to Prince Edward Island. No one was reported injured."

"Hmm." The news switched to weather.

Well, it seemed normal nowadays, with all the earthquakes and dolphins rescuing other dolphins. I guess.

"Lemonade, sir?" Mira, the servant girl, made her way over and held up the pitcher of fresh lemonade. With ice.

I nodded, and she poured me a glass.

She seemed shocked, and said it as if rehearsed (on the contrary, it was), "Will that be it? No foot massages, no special appointments, nothing?"

One nod. Two nods. A headnod.

"Thank you for your time, sir." She bit her lip, and asked, "Would you…mind…if I…?"

Another nod. I held out my muscle so she could touch it. Mira squealed and left.

--

"More lemonade sir?" when she returned.

I grinned. "That'd be great."

_N-no way! HE CAN TALK?_ Mira the servant girl squealed again, before she hit the floor and went unconscious.

* * *

_.Nothing beats frozen cheescake._

* * *

**Gwen (Wednesday, 6:36; **_**'the clock's ticking…and I still have no idea what I'm doing. Haha.'**_**)**

You start to wonder what exactly you've done wrong to deserve this, when suddenly having to sit through dinner with your older brother and (probably) ex-boyfriend.

How could Izzy just leave me here? Got some errands to run? Hilarious.

And the thing is, it's not one of those, "Oh, let's forget everything that happened and just randomly start over, because really, why can't we all just love eachother? I love you, I really do, even though I ignore you as much as possible and pretend you don't exist. And Gwen? Mind passing the salt?"

Um, no.

Besides the last part, because he really did ask for it.

I stabbed my fork into my leftover slab of lasagna, and smirked. "Here," and I held it up for him.

Trent gulped. "Uh, thanks."

"Don't mention it." I flinched, and happily took another bite.

My brother just stared. And coughed. And then, "So, Trent, heard you have a concert tonight. When's it start?"

I did not remember telling him about no concert. I didn't remember _hearing_ about any concert-

"Actually, Carson," Trent tried to say, casually, "It's more of a private thing. There's really only going to be a few people sticking around for the show. Next time though for sure, I'll make sure you get an invite."

He shrugged. "Oh, that's cool. But wait, what about-"

I stood up, and laughed. "So. I guess we're pretty much done here, hehe. Heh. Anyone up for dessert?"

--

Without much of an answer, I gamely set out small plates for three, and took out the frozen cheesecake I'd bought just earlier, just in case. Rhubarb with specialty whipped cream. Half-eaten.

"Enjoy," I said once I got back to my seat, with a crooked smile.

They glanced at me questioningly, _do we really have to eat it?_ then slowly dug in, passing eachother, _you don't think it's..?_ looks in between bites. But they ate it, and anyway, it'd be the thought that counts.

"Good," I declared, feeling all bubbly inside. "Now I'm happy."

Trent just stared.

Carson frowned. He didn't quite get it.

--

Eventually, he had to leave. Trent grabbed his guitar and went off, heading down the street, taking a turn left. I hated myself for being even slightly tempted to chase after him.

Still, I excused myself from dinner a few minutes after-dishes, too, finding myself upstairs to get some time to myself. To think and all that crap. But not, as much as I would've liked, before Carson asked me,

"Tell me what's up, Gwennie," he took the chair behind him and gestured for me to take the one across.

I bit my lip. "I can't."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, after all these years, you think I wouldn't know anyway? Don't be stupid."

I threw my head back and sighed. "I-it's nothing."

Obviously, Carson wasn't too impressed. "Why won't you tell me-?"

"Shut _up_."

A beat. "_Gwennie._"

"Can I go now?" I nearly begged, watching like a hopeful idiot for the 'okay' I was expecting. "Please?"

He nodded, and left to do his business.

I celebrated momentarily, then quickly ran up, just incase he decided to come back.

--

When I checked, I had seven unread email messages.

Four were junk, one was from my parents, somewhere near the Carribean, while I was stuck here, in the same city I had been for the last fifteen years straight (besides the event that occurred two summers ago, no brainer). And I wasn't expecting the other two.

The first, out of the two, was from Harold.

All it said was to keep guard-I knew what that meant-and to remove the zit from the side of my left arm. How'd he know? Didn't even notice it there. Weird.

Next, was from myself. I found that even weirder. With just a twinge of slight panic, I clicked on it.

_Dear Gwen._

I nearly freaked. Was I drunk recently? I mean, did I actually just email myself?

_First off, I'm sorry if making you think that you've emailed yourself bothered you a bit. And you may have noticed? But I type real good and proper, don'tcha think? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA._

Oh, so it's Izzy.

_I'm sorry for leaving you on such short notice. Or actually, no notice at all. Well. The thing is, I'm not coming back. At least anytime soon. But you were expecting that weren't you? I mean_, really_._

I took a deep breathe, then scrolled down.

_Let's just say I've got things to do. Places to go. People to see. Does that sound Shakespeare or what? Sort of, "Where art thou Izzy?" Hmm. Being the art freak that you are, you'll know that one, won'tcha? Wait. Did Shakespeare even _paint? _Guess not. Man, I was SO sure…_

_Well, you'll be home soon from the bakery, so I better wrap this up quick. Sorry again, this time, for leaving you by yourself with all that Trent-dramaaaaaa. But Gwen? I know, deep, deep, deep, deep, deep in my heart, it's really something you've got to do alone. _

_Oh, shoot, I hear you coming through the kitchen now. Time to jump out your window. Bye. _

_-Izzy_

I froze. But then again, just like she'd said, did I really expect Izzy to stay still at one place for so long? It was right then I noticed the extra bit of scrollbar left…

_PS: Hey, Gwen, did you get Harold's email?_

* * *

_You're not the guy I thought I knew_

**- Cry, The Veronicas**

* * *

**Bridgette (Wednesday…**_**'I haven't really looked at the time since I got here. Sorry to disappoint.'**_**)**

"You know you're really not supposed to be in here."

The rain pounded onto the streets, dripping from the tops of the windowsills. I looked up, and froze midway. I knew, it wasn't that I didn't. I knew he'd show up, eventually. "Maclean left the door open. It made perfect sense to me, at least."

He laughed. "Alright then. I won't tell, Bridge, I swear."

"I'm sorry, but last time I checked, you weren't entitled to call me that anymore," I whispered, passing a weak smile.

The lights flickered. He was closer, when they came back on, leaning over to see what I was doing. "So…?"

"Just looking through some files."

He smirked.

My eyes narrowed slightly. "More specifically, _yours_."

His face changed, as he dropped his elbow to the desk behind him. "Huh, well that changes things."

I skimmed threw his file, staring down at my nails between words I pretended didn't matter, "So, Nate Robinson, huh?"

A bright red crept onto his features, and I watched as he tensed and stepped back. "This isn't like you, you know. Normally you won't sneak around much, and you let people just be-"

"You don't know me at _all_." I slammed the drawer shut, causing the whole room to shake.

He gaped at me, then laughed. "Oh, really-"

"I thought I knew you too, Matt."

You could here the thunder from outside-loud and clear. For some reason, it felt so good. I stuffed his paper in his hands, stopping suddenly on my way out, "But sometimes even people like me make mistakes."

* * *

**Oh, _snap_. Hope you guys enjoyed. (: And in other news, I made cross country. YESSSSSS. **

**R&R. CLICK ON THAT PURPLE BUTTON !?**


	15. Grey Skies, Trading Cards, and Leftovers

**I wanna cry. Seriously. I've been so horrible to you guys it isn't even funny. **

**BUT ANYWAAAAAY, I've finally cranked back into writing mode (at least, for the time being) so grab a nice chair, and a sandwich and keep on reading. I'd appreciate it alot. :)**

**I hope this chapter explains some. It's another serious one. And there will be a few surprises. **

**Okay. I'll just let you guys start reading now, okay? For real. Enjoy. :)**

**- Trish**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TDI. Unless my name is Jennifer Pertsch or Tom McGillis and no one told me. **

**(And by the way, this story happens without the special or the upcoming season. It's just based on season one. Thanks.)**

* * *

**STHD14.**

It was impossible.

Chris Maclean sat in his office, his palms growing sweaty, his fingertips drumming constantly against the corners of his desk. The stakes were getting high. People were going to notice. Three of the twenty-two, missing? How could this happen?

He'd thought about some explanations for the first two. _Because both characters have resumed to their not-so-dramatic lives_, he could announce, _the producers and I have decided to give DJ and Bridgette, respectively, a break and- _And what? What about Geoff? Do they ever get back together? And DJ, the kind-hearted, sensitive one? He and Bridgette were walking through a hall, last time we saw them, for a reason that was bleeped out inconveniently…

_For the sake of our ratings…_You're an idiot, Mr. Maclean.

But the bigger problem was the disappearance of 6th voted off, respectively, Tyler West. Not only was it impossible, but even more was it unreasonable. Did he find out? It wasn't very difficult to accomplish such, but if so, how did he find out before the show even started?

Usually, Maclean thought of himself to be quite awesome in thinking up of excuses. Today was that sad, sad, sad exception.

Two days later came to his horror. As two more screens came up blank. Gwendolyn Rimando, and Harold, just 'Harold', were the reasons three out of twenty-two, increased to five. _Five_. Out of twenty-two. He was beginning to panic. Secretly.

A meeting was called at exactly 9:03pm.

"How did this happen?" the host, who was on the brink of having a stroke (as what seemed to everyone in the room), tried his best to keep a calm demeanor, but later found himself talking much louder than usual.

There were nearly twenty people in the room, and none of them had an answer.

"Gee, why don't you just tell us instead?" Suddenly, the doors swung open, and an audience found themselves staring into a wave of ridiculously red hair, and a set of instinctive, bright green eyes. There were nearly twenty jaws in the room, and every single one of them dropped.

* * *

_She calls him up, she's tripping on the phone now  
He had to get up, and he ain't comin' come now_  
**- I Don't Wanna Be in Love, Good Charlotte**

* * *

**Trent (Wednesday, 7pm; 'Party's cancelled, huh? What a shame, I was really looking forward to those cocktail weenies.')**

I slammed the door shut behind me. And thought the following two things, in order:

One, I've gotta get away from here.

Two, a heck of a lot of guilt; as I heard the making's of a "wait-" and some hesitation right after. For some crazy reason I wished she'd just come after me, take me back, and feed me some more of that frozen cheesecake herself. But that wasn't gonna happen anytime soon, I realized, finding my way around the block, stopping to think another block later. I couldn't head back 'til pre-twelve, really. For both her sake, and mine.

But mostly for Gwennie's sake.

Two steps.

A sigh. An excessive, profound, kind of desperate one at that.

Because deep, deep, really deep, down inside (Actually, not that deep. At all.), I wanted to come back. I wasn't sure if she was ready for that though, or if it was more of just me with the problem. I'd reached the point when I never really knew anymore.

_Hey, you, with the funky hair and really bad pick-up lines, shut up. _

Thanks for the advice, buddy. I'll see what I can do.

I pitied myself for being so pathetic, and ran the rest of the not-too-long-but-felt-like-infinity-way-there. Running away from your thoughts is…like running away from yourself basically. It's impossible. They're pretty much the same thing, anyway.

But it helps. A little. Not really.

It can be put on pause though. If you look hard enough, it's easy to get distracted for at least a good ten minutes, and have your mind directed somewhere else. And just when you think it's actually listening to you for once, you realize the distraction's not exactly what you were hoping for.

My stomach lurched as I found it, the very distraction I regretfully asked for, draped over her porch steps, her face buried into her palms, her dress getting soaked conveniently by the rain, which I hadn't really noticed much until I got there.

"So, party's cancelled, huh?"

I wished I'd taken it back.

--

She sat up after the five minutes. Her brown locks were damp, and her rare apply of eyeliner went with it, mixing with the tears that were already mixed with the rain. I put my arm around her, gently pulling her up.

"Come on, we better head inside."

Beth stared. It was a look that meant she most likely thought I was messing with her, but a look that also seemed slightly grateful.

She put on a tough front and walked in, letting me close the door behind her. I set down my guitar case by the coats in the main entrance, and thought for a second.

First thing, I got her a towel. She was sitting by the fireplace when I came back, watching the flames dance and leap possessively.

"I'm guessing you didn't get the memo either," were the first words that came out of her mouth, ten minutes after that.

At that moment, I was warming up hot chocolate, kind of surprised she'd decided to talk at all. "Guess not."

"To tell you the truth, the people Alexis 'hired' didn't come either. I figured it was just a misunderstanding, so I went and decorated the place myself. I didn't think it meant the whole thing was off…" Beth trailed the rest of it, and her eyes grew skeptical. "Or that it was just this big prank on me from the beginning."

Note to self: Notice the streamers and cheap party hats earlier next time. I felt her pain. The truth would hurt, a lot.

"I'm sorry, Beth."

She glanced up at me, her eyes widening at the sight of the two mugs of hot chocolate, which I have to say, is my specialty.

Twenty minutes after watching some TV and finishing up the last drops of our beverages, she smiled, her braces peeking over her almost-perfect set of teeth. "Thanks, Trent. For everything."

* * *

_The quiet scares me because it screams the truth,_  
**- Sober, Pink**

* * *

**Eva (Wednesday, 9:15pm; 'Deal with it. It's the new motto. Get with the times.')**

I started the cold water and ran my fingers through it, washing the deep cut I'd gotten trying to make dinner. Chopping onions wasn't my thing, and obviously, I would've rather been burning sweat at the gym that night. But I had a good reason for it. I wasn't used to the tears that always came; I wasn't used to having stupid stories that had to do with stupid onions making you cry and look stupid if anyone was around, _feel_ stupid, regardless. I ended up throwing out what I'd managed to come up with during that stretch of torture, and warming up the beef and potatoes instead. Leftovers we'd had for a week.

Because I had to, I even set the table; for two, if my father miraculously decided to come home earlier that night.

Half an hour had passed when I decided to dig in early, quietly raising the fork to my mouth, the seat in front of me still empty.

Like it had been for the last three years.

--

I woke up with that feeling of distress, the one you got when things weren't quite going the way you wanted, when you hoped it was finally the day things were about to go your way for once. The feeling you got when you also knew none of that was gonna happen. Needless to say, it wasn't too new to me.

"Today is the first day of the rest of your life, you idiot," I muttered to the person standing in front of me as I rolled out of bed, finding myself staring into a mirror approximately two seconds later.

The person in front of me rolled her eyes. "Apparently."

Whatever. I got dressed and walked into the kitchen, finding a note stuck onto the fridge. My father's handwriting. Raised eyebrow. Those didn't usually happen.

I glared at it,

_Eva,_

_Gone for a week. Headed for Bobby's. Hope you understand, _

_See you soon, Pops_

With a grunt, I ripped it off and stuffed it into my pocket.

Next thing I knew, I was walking to school, Antoinette suddenly by my side, giggling to herself and trying to annoy the hell out of me. Pierre had other plans that, for once, didn't involve me, and I gotta say, I appreciated that. I wasn't paying much attention, but he didn't seem excessively thrilled during that over-and-done-with…blur.

I got this queasy feeling, trying to recall the reason why I stuck to beef and potatoes last night. There were cans of soup in the cupboards, and we even had leeks. Pops liked leeks, at least from the occasion he was home, sitting in the balcony, helping himself to a bowl of leeks.

"My father's out," I blurted out without thinking, "Out of town. He'll be gone for a week."

Antoinette looked at me as if it was the most horrible thing that could ever happen to a person. "Serez-vous bien sur vos propres?"

I cringed. French hadn't always been my forte, and today wasn't going to make things any different. I said the words that felt right. "I'm used to it. It isn't like this hasn't happened before."

While we walked the rest of the way, she passed me combinations of weak smiles and words of pity. Apparently, they were supposed to make me feel better.

* * *

_"Hey, I think I see a bird."_

* * *

**Ezekiel (Thursday, 1:30pm; Rejects' base)**

"I can help you with that."

Garbage offered, peering over the large crate in my hands on her tippy-toes, brushing a lock of light brown hair away from her eyes. She'd never worn her hair down, and it was weird not seeing her in the usual get-up-oversized jackets, torn jeans…looking more like a homeless person living on the streets, if anything. Today must've been the day pigs started to fly and tax prices went down.

Eh, and did I really look that wimpy or something? I winced. Or was she just being…nice? That was yet another mystery to add to the unusual weirdness of today. Someone needed to call in the Scooby Doo Gang. And fast!

Hehe. One of the guys thought of that one.

Anyway.

I handed her the box-I can't remember-between the part when she snarled at me, and the part she threatened to seriously beat me up this time. She was the last person I wanted to mess with.

"There's a whole lot more shipment coming in," Garbage stated the obvious…the obvious I'd just recalled, "If you're too…well, _you _to remember, they're parked just down the street. The faster we get things done, the sooner we can leave."

A pause. "And _please_, don't mess things up, won't you?"

"Gotcha…Garbage?"

She rolled her eyes, throwing her fist to her hip, bluntly. "Oh, please, call me Jess. Makes me feel less…trashy."

"Oh. Uh, sure thing, eh."

--

Clearly, there must've been something wrong with Anthony when he decided to order three truckloads-heavy of football trading cards, I thought, as the guy handed me four more boxes while balancing a cigarette in between his dry lips.

_How could Anthony afford all this?_

Along with a brand new match set, you would've thought someone would end up curious. But what do you know, people in these parts of town have come to the idea that stuff like this happens everyday.

None of that "And what do you plan on doin' with all this anyway, chump" or "That's a lot you ordered there now". He simply smirked through his moustache, stuffed the last box into my hands, and said, "Well, there you go, kid."

I frowned, watching him close down the back of the truck, and jump into the driver's seat and pulling out of illegal parking. The guy waved too, eh.

So there I was, trying to juggle five boxes, and on the brink of having both my arms fall off. _You're better than that,_ I told myself, _you're a guy, after all. _

And that's how I decided to suck it up and head back, my arms de-tached by the time I got there or not.

--

I lunged backwards into a pile of unpacked boxes, and checked if my arms were still in place. Good. I liked my arms. Especially suckers like these. …Garbage shoved me hard and I fell through, landing painfully-headfirst.

Oh, right, she goes by Jess now.

Jessie, Jessica…nah, I liked Garbage.

She spoke through the possible other names I could come up with. "You better quit being a baby and get back to work before the rest of the gang gets back and notices you doin' nothing."

'The rest of the gang' had a serious assessment fifth period, and couldn't afford to skip class. We were the only lucky ones who could.

"Eh, sorry 'bout that, Gar-" She passed a look that could kill.

Jess it is.

--

Anthony dropped by at ten to two to see how we were doing.

"Nice to see you two are getting along!" This brought forth different reactions than what he was going for.

'Jess' snarled, then tore open another box and threw several more packs of cards into the pile. I, felt the blood rushing to my head, as you recall, for reasons that involve me being tossed around like a pack of cards.

He shrugged and walked over to me, scratching his forehead, "Tough day, huh?"

I blinked. "Tough day."

* * *

_In time to catch you  
No one should let you  
Go wandering off into the night  
You're not an orphan.  
_**- Orphans, Jack's Mannequin**

* * *

**Heather (Thursday, 3pm; 'How…excruciating.')**

I remembered how it felt when I was invisible.

The wind blew between my hair as I continued down the path, and I gave it some more thought. It used to be a bother, but nowadays, I lived for moments like these.

I remembered how it felt when I was like the wind. Time flew by even faster. Days would just come and go.

The plan was to meet Lindsey and Lewshana back on Dewdney Avenue, the place we held our first meeting. My feet felt heavier when I walked. I wasn't sure whether to tell them or not, but at the same time, I knew I had to.

My thoughts drifted back.

It happened during middle school. I wasn't too popular back then-had a few friends, got decent grades. One day, I woke up, and I couldn't find myself staring back at me in the mirror. I still had my shadow. It was my only proof I still existed.

I kept walking. My own mother wouldn't let me go to school. Not like that. So I spent the rest of those days watching the sun rise and set on my front porch and the people come and go. But mostly, I'd be looking into my mirror, waiting for the day I came back.

Three months later, there I was. It wasn't easy. I think it was painful to see myself again. I was a lot skinnier, because I'd eaten a lot less. I'd dropped about twenty pounds.

When I got back to school, people didn't seem to notice. Not many knew my name to begin with, and the few who'd known my name had forgotten. From that day forward, it felt like I had to make sure everyone did.

They say there's a turning point for everyone, and that, was mine.

I found them in the coffee shop, seeming to be deep in conversation, conversing between long, heartbreaking drinks.

They saw me, and looked up.

Lewshana spoke first. "Took you long enough."

I gave a weak smile and took a seat, finally deciding upon sharing the day-old news, beginning with, "Tyler West is alive."

* * *

_I am a hostage to my own humanity  
Self-detained and forced to live in this mess I made_  
**- Be my Escape, Relient K**

* * *

**Duncan (Thursday, 6:01pm; 'Here we go again.')**

"Isn't this like, so funny?"

Courtney hissed, and stomped her foot. "Now's not the time, Duncan."

I threw a smirk back. Well, I found it funny. Let's give you the update, shall we? Less than fourty-eight hours ago, Princess and I hit the road. Then comes the mad police chase. We would've made it, obviously, since I'm the fastest driver I know, but then we crashed, because turns out, I'm also the stupidest driver I know.

But here's the funny part-right before we made off, I promised we wouldn't end up in prison again. Yet here we were, somehow heading for court.

"Actually, I take that back. It's exceedingly hilarious."

"Quiet," said Bubbles. It said on his name tag, no joke. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, we're being led to court by these two large creepers in fancy suits. The other one's named Barry. He hasn't said a word so far, but he grunts alot, I have to say.

The next bit, I brought up this story that happened back in sixth grade, when I egged the principal's office. Bubbles seemed pissed. Courtney, as per usual, asked her questions like, "And how much detention did that one cost you?" and "Was it really worth it, honestly, Duncan?" Barry just grunted.

Ten minutes later, Courtney and I were instructed to sit and wait in this small room, and the creepers in the suits ditched, gratefully. The room had no windows, and they'd locked the door, to my surprise. There were five plastic chairs, and a coca-cola machine, randomly in one corner. Princess took one seat, and made me take the empty corner.

"Got any change?" I waved a finger to the cola machine.

"No," she stated, bitterly.

"Is that so?"

"Shut up for once, Duncan, I'm trying to think."

"Okay then, what do you think?"

"I think you're an idiot." After, she went on saying things like how it was all my fault and she was an idiot too for trusting me and that once her parents heard she was a criminal she would never be able to face the rest of humanity again.

I tried to let the guilt sink in. There was plenty of reality on her side of things, but for me, it was just another day. To her it was the end of the world, to me, it was like a tiny scratch on my arm, or something. No big deal. It stung, but it would be over. I realized this was what kept me and Courtney from being together-the fact we didn't understand eachother well enough, the fact I couldn't see her side of things, the fact she couldn't see mine.

She ended off, "I hate you."

I leaned my head back, gently scraping it against the paved wall. "I know."

--

Twenty minutes later, a middle-aged woman in a floor-length coat swung the door open, much to our distaste of being left there forever to die. "Courtney Evans? Duncan Mackenzie?"

We nodded, without looking at eachother.

She looked at me. "Your father's waiting outside. He's going to take you both home."

"What about the trial? The courtroom? We were supposed to be-" Courtney was a mess, at that point, not sure of anything, not sure of who to believe.

The woman looked at her funny. "I have no idea what you're talking about. A trial? A courtroom? Last time I checked, I was a dentist and I worked at a dentistry. Right now you're in the spare waiting room, for mental patients who are having a hard time. The two men who brought you here told me you both had appointments scheduled for seven fifteen? It's cancelled now apparentely, you're free to leave."

I frowned, still a bit skeptical. "Well, I guess that's it."

Courtney and I stood up and followed the lady out. Come to think of it, the place did look more like a dentistry than anything. My head spun, and I tried to rack my brain for answers. What just happened? Why does this seem so much like a set-up?

We walked out into the parking lot. A few familiar faces-Dad, and Spike-stood next to the good 'ol Toyota. They didn't seem to know anymore than we did.

"Get in the car, kid," my father called out. It had been a long week.

Needless to say, it was long, quiet ride home.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed! Christmas break is coming up, so I'll try to get some writing done. **

**Read and review....!**


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